


The Long Road

by Esselle



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gods, Happy Ending, M/M, Porn with Feelings, walking the earth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-26
Updated: 2017-11-26
Packaged: 2018-09-02 09:53:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 26,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8662912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Esselle/pseuds/Esselle
Summary: ' "You owe me something," Kenma said.This admission did catch Tetsurou off guard. "Have we met before?" That couldn't be; he would have remembered those eyes."No," Kenma said. "Or perhaps, many times.""And what do I owe?"He stilled as Kenma put a finger on his throat. "A life," the boy said.Tetsurou swallowed, feeling that still cool finger resting against his skin. "Whose?""Who else?" Kenma asked. "Yours." '--General Kuroo Tetsurou has failed in his duty. He must now endure the journey back home, escorting the last living member of the Haiba family to safety. Only once he has accomplished this task may he seek an honorable end. What he does not count on finding along the lonely path is someone else to lead the way—to whatever end is most fitting.





	1. winter

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ellessey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ellessey/gifts).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is dedicated to my flawless editor, partner-in-crime, and above all, best friend - not least because you are amazing, but also because today is your birthday! Thank you so much [Ellessey](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Ellessey/pseuds/Ellessey/works), for being my friend <3 Happy birthday!!!
> 
>  **Please note:** this fic deals with themes and contemplation of war and death, and the concept of honor suicides. Rating is also E beyond chapter 1.

**_winter_ **

 

 _the voice of the drums_  
_over a field of red snow_  
_echoes in still hearts_

 

The drums of war beat loud and deep.

Their song thundered in the air, through the ground. In the hoof beats of the horses as they carried their masters through fire. Always beating, beating, a slow and steady rhythm.

Was it drums, or the heartbeats of men, that played over the field where the snow was dyed red, steaming in the winter air?

 

A man awoke to screams.

Blackened vision faded in, and out, and back again. Beneath his chest was that steady thrum. Alive. He was alive.

How was he alive?

A warrior shrieked nearby, all his courage gone now that he saw the end. His hands shook as he pleaded for life. It would not be granted to him. A boot hit the ground near the man's head, steadying it's wearer for a swift plunge of a sword into his heart.

The man let his eyes close. He did not want to see the end someone else had decided for him.

*

The man awoke to pain.

Not the far away, deep pain of the end, but sharp, and fleeting. His heavy eyes wanted to blink, and someone slapped him again.

"Wake up," came the frigid command. "Up."

Vision faded in, and out, and stayed.

"Is he looking? Good. Show him."

With a slam that seemed to reverberate through the man, a head was dropped to the ground in front of him. There was no body.

A hand gripped the man's hair, lifted him to his knees. His eyes watered, but not from the sting of the pull.

Something cold slithered across his neck, something sharp.

"Your lord is finished and your city has fallen," said that same, cold voice. "Your army is no more. We have slaughtered them and left their worthless remains to rot."

The man wanted to close his eyes, now. He longed to. But he dared not look away from the dead eyes they had placed before him. It was the least he could do, as he met the end.

"But you will not be food for the carrion birds," he heard the voice say. A second cut in.

"Sir, we can't leave him alive. This is General Kuroo Tetsurou."

" _Was_ ," the cold one said. "But no longer. Now he is nothing. And he shall make that fact known, one way or another."

The steel was drawn back from his throat and thrown upon the floor next to the head of the man he had sworn to die for.

"The choice is yours, _General._ Return home, inform your emperor that one of his strongholds has fallen, and that you were weak. Or…"

Tetsurou's eyes went to the sword. It was his blade, even naked he knew it, the way the light gleamed off its tempered edge.

The hand in his hair disappeared, only to strike him a heavy blow in the back of the head, and he fell forward, slipping under again. Before he was gone, he heard the voice of the victor, a whispered hiss like a poison serpent.

"Will you let them find your bones protecting nothing but a worthless blade?"

*

The man awoke to darkness. The bitter chill that would have been staved off by lit lanterns and body heat ate at him now, and his limbs were loathe to shift. But slowly, they did.

He did not know what to do. His mind, always tactical, thinking over his move three turns ahead, had stilled. There were no more moves left on the board. His oath was a silent one, lying in pieces before him. The remnants of his army, unburied, left to stiffen and freeze and eventually stink and ripen when warmer weather came, if there was still flesh on the bones of the dead men around him.

He should join them.

There was no merit in showing his face before the emperor. That way lay nothing but disappointment and shame. It was a coward's way, a fool's way, to think he would be welcomed back.

But if they found his famous blade, with his body curled over it, they would say that he had failed, but at least he had loved them enough to die with his men—for his men. Even if it was not the way he would have chosen.

And so he gripped the handle of his sword.

He arranged himself on his knees, in front of the severed head of his lord and master, so that those blind eyes looked into his and seemed to see the devastation there. His sword tip he pressed against his belly, the hilt snug against the ground. All he had to do was fall.

He felt the sharp edge piercing through his flesh, a trickle of wet blood joining the rivulets of dried, frozen ones on his flesh.

"I'm sorry," he said, to the dead men around him, those unseeing eyes.

And as he let go…

"Tetsu?"

The voice, cutting through the cold wind, made him startle, and the blade sliced his stomach shallowly. He cried out, and then the sound of running came to him, and he shouted,

"Stay back!"

He knew the voice. He could not let its owner see the sight before which he kneeled.

The footsteps halted and Tetsurou knocked his sword away, turning to see a small boy standing there, his green eyes widening, first in shock, and then in the terrified grief that came with seeing death for the first time.

"Fa…ther…?"

Tetsurou surged to his feet, crushing the boy to his much larger frame, but it was too late. He felt the small shoulders shake before the sobs began, bone-aching cries that seemed to rip through his own heart, as though he himself were making them.

"I'm sorry," he said again, now that there was someone to hear him. "I'm sorry, Lev."

But the child could not grasp why he was at fault. Tetsurou stared down at the boy. At the height he stood, his head was pressed to the gash where Tetsurou's sword had cut him. His bleeding was steadily staining the boy's silver hair a rust red, like the war torn snow in the ruined courtyard outside.

He had been given two options: bear the shame of returning home, or uphold the duty of ending his failed existence himself. But now he was presented with a third.

He could bring the child back home. He could make sure he was safe.

And then, having fulfilled at least that one small task, he could die.

For now, there were other matters to attend to. Tetsurou closed the boy inside one of the bedrooms with the promise that he would return and picked his way through the burned and ransacked rooms, finding nothing but bodies, or parts of bodies. There were no survivors. Aside from Lev, their enemy had routed the stronghold and surrounding city with brutal efficiency.

In the lord's quarters, he found the rest of the Haiba family. He stayed only long enough to confirm no one had escaped, save Lev. The bodies lay piled in the middle of the room, broken. They would have been corralled together to be executed. He felt nausea scrape at his insides at the sight of a family he had considered as good as his own, all wiped out in the course of a single night.

One day they were one of the preeminent bloodlines in the empire, and the next, all dead save for one, a child who knew nothing of the world. How quickly fortunes changed.

Tetsurou returned to the room where Lev was waiting. The little boy sat on the floor, his knees pulled up to his chest and his arms wrapped around them. He was shivering. Tetsurou sat down next to him.

"Mother hid me," the boy whispered. "But she and father, they didn't hide. Why?"

Tetsurou stared at the opposite wall. "It's important to face death with honor. When that inevitable time comes… you must meet its eyes."

Lev turned his tear streaked face toward the man. "Then, I'm a coward?"

"No," Tetsurou said, putting an arm around him. "It just wasn't your time, yet." Exhaustion began to set in as he leaned back against the wall with his legs splayed out in front of him. He was miraculously uninjured, aside from a few cuts and bruises, and the shallow gash along his belly. But now the weight of a life without meaning—however short it may be—settled upon him.

He needed to rest, as it was, to regain his strength. The smoke rising from the ruined city would draw grounded vultures—thieves, scavengers, roving vagabonds, looking to pick the carcass of the citadel clean. In the morning, when it was no longer too cold and dark to travel, they would need to leave this place behind.

But for now, with Lev a small, warm presence against his side, for now they would sleep. For better or worse, they would begin their new lives with the dawn of a new day, under the rising sun.

*

The horse stables were a sad sight, the stalls either empty or bloodied from the bodies of animals that had resisted unfamiliar handlers. Lev clung to Tetsurou's shirt, hiding his eyes as they picked their way through. It appeared they would be traveling on foot.

The pockets of fire that had blazed the night before throughout the city had simmered to embers or less, after the night had covered them in a blanket of snow. The smell of smoke was heavy in the air, making Tetsurou's eyes water and Lev cough uncontrollably. The haze lingered until they were far and away from the razed land.

It was a long road back to the capital. Most people from the city would never even see it during their lifetime. Tetsurou himself had only made the journey a few times since he had joined the army, in the wake of significant victories or monumental occasions. But he knew the way.

The countryside in winter was stark, and colorless. The trees along the roadside were bare like bones, and the sky grey and lifeless. The days were cold and harsh, and wherever they walked, snow crunched beneath their feet. Tetsurou wrapped Lev's small feet in his raised sandals in dry cloth every morning, and even then by midday they were wet through from the snow that had piled high along the roads.

Lev never said a word in complaint. He barely said words at all, just trudged behind Tetsurou, sometimes lagging behind but never stopping, catching up whenever the former general stopped to wait for him. Tetsurou had never known him to be like this, and was far more used to seeing and hearing him excitable and laughing. There was nothing he could say or do about the change, and it would be unkind to try and brush off such profound grief. They both could only wait it out.

During the nights, they stopped to shelter at small inns along the roadside. A few times, they managed to persuade a family with coin to let them sleep on the floor of the home, or in the farmhouse, where the walls were barely protection from the frigid air. Once, after a miscalculation in travel distance on Tetsurou's part, they ended up sheltering in a rundown old building that looked as though they were not the first to do so, judging by the ashy wood and paper fire long grown cold in a corner.

Not even lighting a fire was enough to keep warm. He piled their spare jackets onto Lev, but the boy still shivered through the night. Tetsurou himself worried that he would lose several fingers to the cold before the sun came up, but at last, morning came, and the air warmed the slightest bit. They moved on.

It was a fortnight and some odd days along the road, on an afternoon that was unusually bright, the rays of the sun gleaming too bright off the white fall of snow. The trees around them were tall, and Lev had gone into them to relieve himself after their small lunch with the promise he wouldn't venture far.

Tetsurou stamped out the fire he had used to warm their tea (little more than water with a few leaves and flowers to approximate something like taste), covering it with snow to keep it from sending out smoke.  

There was movement in the trees. It was not Lev.

The general continued to clear their break site, not stopping or turning in the direction of the movement. Instead, he watched the shadows.

Footfalls softened by the blanket of snow sounded behind him—heavy, unrefined, eager. They closed upon him and he heard the whistle of metal through air. To face this threat, three swift actions would be all Tetsurou needed.

The first—the drawing of his blade, squaring his feet and pulling it sharply from its sheath, slicing the air in a wide arc in front of himself. This was his warning to his enemy.

The second—warning unheeded, he sidestepped, and his clumsy attacker missed his first swing, his sword whistling by harmlessly.

The third—hands repositioned on the grip of his sword to hold it in reverse, he drove it backwards, feeling it stick deep in flesh. Judging by the height of the man's swing, he had pierced through his stomach and intestines.

Tetsurou withdrew the sword, righted his grip, and flicked the blood sharply off of the end. He had not had to turn around during the exchange.

Now he did. The man he'd stabbed fell to his knees before him, before keeling over, hands scrabbling at his wound. It would be fatal. His cohorts—bandits, it seemed, from their patched clothing—looked on in something like fear. They had expected an easy target and had cornered a beast, instead.

Tetsurou raised his sword in a two-handed grip in front of himself, staring past the blade at them. He could see the instant they looked into his eyes and realized he would kill each one in turn.

Then a shaking voice cried out, "I'll gut him."

And Tetsurou flicked his eyes to the side and saw that it was he, in fact, who was defeated.

One of the bandits held Lev in his grasp, a rough dagger already held to the boy's throat. The bandit was shaking, still afraid of Tetsurou even while he had the upper hand, and the trembling of his arm forced the point into Lev's skin. A thin line of red opened there, before welling over to mark his pale throat red. The small boy's eyes were wide.

Tetsurou had wanted to move fast, to finish them all before the boy could see, but this was worse. No matter how fast he was, he could not be faster than a blade that had already drawn blood. He threw aside his sword.

"Deal with him," the man holding Lev said. The bandits swarmed Tetsurou, searching him for valuables.

"We're poor travelers," Tetsurou told them. "I have nothing to give you, save my body." This last was said with a slight smirk, bravado to hide his fear.

"He's lying," one of them said. "That sword's expensive. His clothes, too. And that's no peasant boy."

"We could sell the child," said another. "Stop marking him up."

Tetsurou's smirk turned to a snarl as he lunged, bare-handed. The man closest to him was caught unaware. The sound it made when Tetsurou broke his neck cracked through the barren trees. This man, too, fell at his feet—already dead as the rest bore down on him.

He almost turned the fight in his favor. Almost. But bare skin could not block blades.

One man's short sword he managed to wrest away from him, driving it upwards between his ribs to finish him, but the effort expended left him vulnerable to the weapons of the rest. He felt a hot pain sizzling into his stomach, deeper and deeper, and he turned his body with enough force to jerk the knife out of his attacker's hands, even as it was still embedded in his abdomen. He yanked it out and jammed it sideways, into the man's throat.

The wound was an inopportune one. Bleeding freely now that he had removed the knife—a poor decision. It would bring his death if not taken care of soon, and was already making his movements sluggish. He used the short sword to parry another blow, stumbling backwards, and another strike lanced into his back. They had surrounded him.

The ground was soft below his knees as he fell. A fist struck him in the face and he felt blood and saliva pour from his mouth. A heavy foot landed against his side, bringing him down fully, and then stomped again on him. He felt the crack of his ribs, air leaving him in a gasp. The snow was cold against his cheek.

He saw Lev, staring down at him, sobbing silently, and felt remorse.

Even this one thing, he could not do.  

In the shadows, he saw a sword raised, this time to bring him death. And he could not look away, because he had told Lev it was important, to look it in the eyes. The man poised to kill him stood behind him, but Tetsurou could do as much as to hold Lev's green gaze, to try to show him that even lying in the dirt, it was possible to be brave.

So it was that he saw as the man who held the boy in his grasp suddenly fell, silent and without warning, and his head rolled off his neck into the white snow.

A creature wearing red sprang forward from behind Lev, the glint of sharp steel bright in its hands.

He heard screams around him once more as the remaining bandits were cut down—quick, but not painless. The snow turned the color of their blood.

It was over in mere seconds. There was no fight, only death, swiftly delivered. And then nothing but the sound of the wind in the trees, and the softest sound of snow under light footsteps.

The figure in red came to stand before him, silhouetted against the cold winter sun so all Tetsurou could see were two eyes, catlike and golden, staring down at him from above.

"Kuroo Tetsurou," a low voice said.

Tetsurou tried to raise his head, and failed. He offered up what he thought might, maybe, have been a grin. "I had it under control."

A familiar, merciful darkness overtook him.

*

Hushed, ambient noises—the quiet noise of a kettle bubbling over a fire, footsteps on wood planks, cold wind through trees outside… outside.

Tetsurou's eyes fluttered open. His eyes took a moment to adjust. He was lying on a soft mat in a dimly lit room, the lantern dangling from the ceiling throwing flickering shadows onto its walls, which were wooden and creaked under the force of the wind buffeting them. A small stone fire pit in the center of the floor had been lit under his metal kettle, and the fragrant smell of real tea leaves was already beginning to fill the room.

"Lev?" Tetsurou called, but his voice barely left his throat. He cleared it and tried again, his second attempt hoarse and unpleasant to his own ears. It was loud enough—he heard feet pattering, then the rasp of the paper screen sliding back. Groggily, he turned his head in the other direction.

"Tetsu!" the little boy cried, racing to him to throw tiny arms around his neck. The movement jostled Tetsurou painfully, but he was used to pain, and managed not to show it. Now that his attention had been drawn to it, however, he could feel the deep ache that had settled over his body, dull throughout the whole of it, but throbbing in some places, like his sides and head, and sharp and biting in others, like his stomach and back.

"I'm alright," he said, forcing the words out. Mentally, he took a tally: fractured jaw. Broken ribs. The deep stab wound in his abdomen and the laceration across his back. This would slow him, bring his journey to an irritating halt. "I'm fine."

Lev pulled back, his green eyes wide. "I thought you were definitely dead."

Laughing hurt his throat but he did it anyway. "Thank you for your confidence." He tossed the boy a lopsided, painful grin. He had not done much to earn his confidence. He would not have survived if they had been left out in the snow.

Which meant they had been saved. But, as he could see no one else aside from Lev, it appeared he would have to wait a little while longer to be introduced to their rescuer. For now, they seemed to be safe enough.

"Is the tea ready?"

Lev nodded, and he watched as the boy scrambled to the kettle to pour it out with shaky hands.

"Careful," Tetsurou said, as Lev made his way carefully back with an overfilled cup, eyes nearly crossing as he concentrated on not spilling it. He sat next to Tetsurou on the floor and they were silent for a moment as he blew on the steaming liquid until it was cool enough to drink. He put the cup to Tetsurou's lips, helping him to raise his head, and the general drank, grateful for the taste of strong tea to soothe his dry throat. "Thank you."

The wind howled outside. Inside, it did not reach them.

"Where are we?"

"Not far from the road. There was an inn nearby," Lev said. He leaned in excitedly. "They have a hot springs!"   

"And… who brought us here?"

The door slid open again. Tetsurou turned his head to look, and saw him.

He still noticed the clothes this newcomer wore, first. Robes of such length they fell to the floor, sleeves wide and graceful, and tied with a wide sash around his waist. The cloth was the deep color of fresh blood.

The second thing Tetsurou noticed was his hair—darker than a moonless sky, the deep black of ink drawn in swooping, bold lines across white rice paper. And impossibly long, obvious even with it tied back, probably well past his hips.

And then there were his eyes. Yellow-gold and impassive, as if not a whisper of unwanted emotion was allowed to pass through them. They appeared almost uninterested as they watched Tetsurou, but there was an undercurrent of _something_ there, that belied an alternate nature. Not interest so much as a sense of calculation. Like a cat, watching a bird to see which way it will attempt to fly, in order to beat it out of the air.

Tetsurou knew the look very well. It was one he often caught at the edges of his own reflection.

He was younger than Tetsurou, just barely a man, but the general felt distinctly as though he ought to feel small in this boy's presence.

"You should be resting," he said, his voice low and flat.

"What's your name?" Tetsurou asked, without preamble.

The boy's expression didn't change. "Kenma."

"You killed those bandits," Tetsurou recalled. "And brought us here."

"Yes," Kenma said.

They watched each other carefully. Then Tetsurou settled back against the mats he lay upon. "People always said I was lucky in war. I used to tell them I was just lucky all the time."

"It's a well traveled road," the boy said. "They were stupid to attack you there."

"Oh, I don't mean the fact that we were saved," Tetsurou smiled up at the ceiling. "I was referring to how fortunate it was that we were rescued by someone so beautiful."

There was silence.

Suddenly, hands were yanking his robes apart, not gentle in the slightest. He nearly yelped in spite of himself. "We can at least wait until the child goes to sleep!"

Kenma stopped attempting to undress Tetsurou, staring at him levelly. "I need to check your bandages."

Tetsurou blinked. "Oh." He looked down at himself. His torso was heavily wrapped in white cloth. They were clean and dry and for that he was thankful.

"What are you waiting to do 'til after I'm asleep?" Lev asked.

"Nothing," Kenma responded, at the same time Tetsurou said, "You'll find out when you're older."

Kenma shoved a hand beneath his robes and this time Tetsurou did yelp.

"Did you just come in from outside?" he asked. Kenma's hands were like ice against his skin as he felt along the edges of the bandages.

"Does this hurt?" Kenma asked, pressing his hand firmly against Tetsurou's broken ribs. The general grit his teeth.

"Not really," he lied.

"You've been unconscious for two days," Kenma said bluntly. "You nearly died of blood loss, and you can't move any part of your body besides your head, yet." He jerked Tetsurou's robes closed. "I don't think you're going to be doing anything, tonight. With anyone."

He stood, straightening his own robes on his shoulders.

"I'm Kuroo," Tetsurou said.

"Kuroo Tetsurou," Kenma nodded. "Go back to sleep."

He had forgotten the boy already knew his name. He had said it, when Tetsurou was lying nearly dead in the snow.

"How do you know me?"

Kenma paused in the doorway, looking back at them. "We can at least wait until the child goes to sleep," he said, and was gone.

*

Long after the fires in the room had burned low and the edge of the winter chill had nearly returned, after Lev had fallen asleep, Kenma returned. Tetsurou was waiting for him.

Kenma didn't speak, and the only noise he made upon his entrance was the soft brush of cloth over the floor. He seated himself, and opened Tetsurou's robes to check the bandages. They had started to stick to Tetsurou's skin, the sluggish seepage of blood from his wounds finally beginning to wet them through.

Wordlessly, Kenma began to unwrap them. It was a slow, painful process—he had to first turn Tetsurou one way, then the other, in order to free the ends of the cloth. The movement jostled him, and some of the cloth was stuck to his tender flesh where the blood had begun to dry. This was, in some ways, a good sign—it meant he wasn't bleeding so much that they could not stem the tide. He struggled to remember this as the removal of the wrap tugged on the edges of his wounds.

He could not move to help himself. So instead, he watched Kenma work. His face was as impassive as ever, but he was very focused on the task at hand, careful not to put too much pressure on Tetsurou's injured ribs.

Tetsurou was unable to stop himself from shivering the slightest bit as Kenma wrung out a washcloth in a shallow wooden bucket, and began to clean his skin. It was fortunate the water from the springs was warm—the boy's hands were not. But his movements were slow and surprisingly gentle, contrasting with his direct nature, and after awhile, his fingers had warmed to match the water's temperature, and were cool and soothing against Tetsurou's stomach as he drew the washcloth over him.

He could not roll Tetsurou onto his other side to clean his back because of the bruised ribs. Instead, very carefully, he slipped his arms underneath Tetsurou and raised him to a sitting position, leaning him forward so his chin was resting on Kenma's shoulder, with Kenma's arms around him like an embrace. Tetsurou closed his eyes.

"Thank you," he said.

"For what?" Kenma asked. He braced one hand against the back of Tetsurou's head, and began to clean the blood from the long gash across his back. He had been lucky in that it was shallow enough not to cripple him. But its healing would be slow.

"Everything," Tetsurou murmured in response, feeling the heaviness behind his eyes despite the sting of his injuries. The hand in his hair was steady and reassuring, and the red, red cloth of Kenma's robes was beautifully soft against his bare chest. "I'm going to get your clothes dirty."

Kenma sighed. "It's too late for that." He laid Tetsurou back down and started the slow process of wrapping fresh bandages around his torso. When he was finished, and had double checked the tightness of the cloth, he sat back satisfied.

"Tea?" Tetsurou suggested.

Kenma blinked. "Are you offering to make it?" He nonetheless stoked the dying fire in the stone pit, checking the water level in the kettle. When it was hot, he poured one cup and sat beside Tetsurou, hands curled around the warmth. After a long silence, he took a small sip, lips curling slightly at the near boiling temperature.

"How do you know me?" Tetsurou asked him.

"I know _of_ you," Kenma responded.

Tetsurou hummed. "What do you want with me?"

Kenma paused with the cup raised halfway to his mouth. He lowered it again. "You owe me something."

This admission did catch Tetsurou off guard. "Have we met before?" That couldn't be; he would have remembered those eyes.

"No," Kenma said. "Or perhaps, many times."

"And what do I owe?"

Kenma put the cup to his lips and helped him drink. It was too hot, but he drank the flavorful tea anyway. He stilled as Kenma put a finger on his throat.

"A life," the boy said.

Tetsurou swallowed, feeling that still cool finger resting against his skin. "Whose?"

"Who else?" Kenma asked. "Yours."

The number of lives Tetsurou had been accountable for over his own—those he'd saved, and those he'd taken—was innumerable. There were so many he was responsible for through his own actions, both his achievements, and his failures. He closed his eyes and remembered the faces of the dead men at the citadel. It did not matter who he had taken from Kenma, whose lost life his death would atone for. The outcome was one they both desired.

"I'll give it to you," he agreed. "After I finish this last thing. Getting the boy home."

Kenma nodded, sipping again at the tea. Tetsurou breathed in the scent of cooling tea, the wood of the inn, let the wail of wind relax him, warm where it could not reach him. A thought occurred to him.

"Why didn't you leave me on the road?" he asked.

Kenma shifted next to him. "That didn't seem fitting."

Tetsurou smiled, his eyes still closed. "You know, I was telling the truth before."

"About?"

"You are very, very beautiful."

A soft snort reached his ears. Kenma finished the rest of the tea without offering him any more. He stayed there, silent, until Tetsurou fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thanks to reallycorking for reading over this the past few weeks as I tackled something that is not KageHina for the first time in an age, in secret - I almost let the surprise slip about 4 times. 
> 
> And THANK YOU Ellie for inspiring me to start this fic months and months ago, as well as for now being the lighthouse that has encouraged me to finally reach the shores of completion. I know you (and a lot of other people) have been waiting on this one for a long time and had possibly given up hope... so I hope it doesn't disappoint!
> 
> [I'm [@esselley](http://esselley.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr, [@Esselle_hq](https://twitter.com/Esselle_hq) on Twitter]


	2. winter: ii

Winter was long and harsh. Tetsurou's recovery was no different.

Sometimes, the pain was so great that he had trouble keeping it off his face even in front of Lev. Lev didn't comment on it, during those difficult days. But the boy rarely left his side, as though his presence alone could nurse Tetsurou back to full health. The only times he strayed were to assist the innkeeper about the quiet inn.

She would enter the room, a round, smiling old woman, always curiously silent. Lev would scurry to hug her around her large middle, and she would lead him off, to help with whatever tasks needed to be carried out that day.

Tetsurou couldn't imagine what they might be. Aside from himself, and Lev, and the old innkeeper, the inn remained empty, despite its convenient location and the cold weather outside. There was only one other person staying there, aside from them.

In comparison to that person, the winter might be considered mild. The beautiful young man never smiled, though Tetsurou tried every thing he could think of to coax it out of him. All of his charm was for naught. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that he was nearly comatose the majority of the time, he mused. Then there were the wounds, the hassle of bathing him, the fact that Kenma wanted him dead…

"Do you find me distasteful?" he asked Kenma one evening after some weeks had passed. The wind outside had settled into a low, unceasing howl. Unsettlingly peaceful, in its melancholy.

"Somewhat," Kenma replied. He sipped his tea. Tetsurou blinked at him. Then he began to laugh.

"I suppose," he said, "I could have anticipated that."

"You could have," Kenma agreed.

Tetsurou chuckled, then winced.

"Why do you laugh so much?" Kenma asked. "You waste energy. It hurts you. It's…"

"Distasteful," Tetsurou supplied, with a grin.

"Yes."

"Be that as it may," Tetsurou said, "it is what keeps me alive."

Kenma gazed at him for a long moment with his hypnotizing golden eyes, and Tetsurou felt his smile fading slightly. "No, it isn't."

"Then what is?" he inquired. "My heart? My mind?"

"Certainly not the latter," Kenma replied.

"You're keeping me in suspense," Tetsurou admonished.

Kenma set his tea on the floor. Eyes discerning, scrutinizing, he leaned closer, until Tetsurou could see the tendrils of hair that had come loose from where he had tied it up, the soft curling wisps at the nape of his neck. _"I_ am."

Tetsurou swallowed. He thought of the days on end Kenma had spent, nursing him back to health. How his life was literally in Kenma's hands. The meticulous care, the clean wrapped bandages, the soft touch when Kenma bathed him. All this despite his cold demeanor. He looked at Tetsurou now, unblinking, as though waiting for him to agree—and there was no other choice, or answer. Kenma had saved him, and when it was finally time for him to surrender to death, Kenma would be there for that, too.

"Wouldn't you say so, general?" Kenma murmured, breath whispering hot over his ear.

Tetsurou felt a low heat stirring in his gut. "Perhaps in more ways than one."

Kenma sat back, seemingly satisfied. He was as serene as ever, but Tetsurou's blood still raced, his heart beating fast like a small bird's wings. Kenma touched him all the time, out of necessity, so why, now, was he feeling so flustered?

The boy raised a slender hand and tucked a strand of his ink black hair behind his ear. The red of his robe caught Tetsurou's eye, shifting against his skin, sliding low off one shoulder, and Tetsurou realized—he was meant to be flustered. This proximity had been deliberate, rather than necessary. And even if Kenma was nearly impossible to read, Tetsurou knew this manuscript all too well.

"I would have expected you to have a more practical view of things," Kenma said softly.

Tetsurou turned his head to the side, surveying him through eyelids growing steadily heavier, with the warmth from the small fire used to warm the kettle, the lull of the wind, and the faintest bit of hopeful longing. "Of what?"

"You know better than anyone that a life can be ended as easily as spared."

This cooled the fires a bit. Tetsurou settled back against the bedding, considering. "Perhaps. But I've never viewed the state of being alive and the act of living to be one and the same."

"Why is that?" Kenma's voice was genuinely curious. Even his eyes had seemed to widen, the smallest bit—catching a flicker of flame from the fire. For the first time, Kenma seemed caught off guard.

Tetsurou hummed. "An old man can die without ever truly experiencing life. A young man can die having experienced enough to fill ten lifetimes. Both may have regrets, but only one understands what he is missing, because he has gained for himself something to miss."

"Does that matter to the men you kill?" Kenma asked. "Do you stop and ask them if they've done all they wanted? What about the people you save, do you ask them if their life is worth saving?"

"No," Tetsurou said. That comfort didn't exist in war. "But I often wish I could."

"Those are very nice words," Kenma said. Tetsurou could not determine whether he meant that sincerely or not. "And you, general? Are you the young man? Or the old?"

Just months ago, Tetsurou would have considered himself free of regrets, neither old nor young, but fulfilled. Now, he was no longer sure.

Kenma seemed to sense this, and did not press the matter further. "You should sleep," he said. "I can see you are tired."

"Am I that easy to read?" Tetsurou asked. On another night, he might have argued against sleep, even while his eyes were closing, just to try and get a rise out of Kenma. But their conversation had taken its toll on him.

"You are," Kenma said, "but I've also come to know you very well." He put out the fire, leaving only the embers burning amidst the ashes. The room was shrouded in dimness, the glowing embers and the flickering candle flames through the rice paper walls the only source of light.

"I'm not sure that's a good thing," Tetsurou said, his eyes starting to close.

"Maybe not," Kenma said quietly. "But I have, at the least, determined you are not a bad man."

He wanted to ask Kenma whether or not that made him a _good_ one, but his voice was loath to leave his body. In the brief moments before Tetsurou fell asleep, he thought he felt a familiar hand, smoothing his hair back from his forehead.

*

The weeks turned to months, which folded into the new year, and with time, Tetsurou began to mend. After so many long, bed-ridden days, he was finally healed enough to sit up, with Lev enthusiastically supporting him at first, and then unaided.

"You're nearly as capable as a newborn," Kenma said dryly. Lev sprawled on the floor next to him, kicking his feet and happily eating one of the tea-flavored sweets the innkeeper had an endless supply of. Kenma patted the boy's hair absentmindedly.

"I owe my frail strength to you," Tetsurou joked.

The past few months had been restless, but humbling. He had had too much time to think, but the worst of it had been filled by Kenma, quiet as he was. And Lev, slowly gaining back the light in his eyes, returned some of Tetsurou's hope. Not for himself, but for the boy, who used to laugh loudly and speak his mind, and was kind and caring.

"And more importantly, your lack of body odor," Kenma reminded him, and Tetsurou chuckled into his tea. Of course, Kenma would focus on that rather than the fact that Tetsurou was still breathing.

"Lev," he asked, and the child perked up at his name being called. "Did you remember to ask Auntie about the—"

"I did, I did!" Lev said excitedly, sitting up. They called the innkeeper Auntie—Tetsurou was beginning to suspect it might be the closest they'd ever get to knowing her name, but that was alright.

"Bring it here, then," Tetsurou said, and Lev stuck his hands in all his pockets, tongue trapped between his lips as he tried to remember where he'd stashed the mysterious item. "Don't let Kenma see it," Tetsurou said.

Kenma leveled his gaze at him. Tetsurou pretended not to notice, as Lev scrambled to him and gently laid something in his hands. Blocking it from view, Tetsurou inspected it carefully, though in actuality it was a very simple, small thing. Eventually, Kenma sighed.

"What is it?"

"Are you curious?" Tetsurou asked.

"No," Kenma said.

Tetsurou shrugged and began to pocket it. "Oh, alright—"

_"Kuroo."_

Tetsurou grinned and patted the floor in front of him. "Here." When Kenma just continued to look at him, blankly, he said, "Come sit here."

"Why?" Kenma asked.

"Because I'm not going to show you what I have if you don't," Tetsurou said honestly. "And you are curious." He waited.

He couldn't keep the smile off his face when Kenma stood, relocating very reluctantly to come sit in front of him.

"Don't face me," Tetsurou said, and Kenma sighed again before kneeling looking the other direction, settling onto his heels. Tetsurou easily slid his arms around him, and was pleased when Kenma didn't immediately vacate the space. "Surprise," he said lightly, the item held in his hand for Kenma to finally see.

Kenma looked down at it with utter disinterest. "It's a comb."

And sure enough it was—just a simple rounded comb, wooden and lacquered a deep, gleaming black.

"So it is," Tetsurou said.

"Are you… giving it to me?" Kenma asked blankly.

"If you want it," Tetsurou said. "But first… I thought I could demonstrate its properties."

"It's a small comb," Kenma said.

"That's not what I mean," Tetsurou said, and then noticed the way Kenma turned his head to the side, raising the back of his hand to his mouth. "Are you _mocking_ me?"

"Of course not," the boy replied. "I'm awaiting the demonstration."  

His overtures were not going entirely as well as Tetsurou had planned, but this was by no means a reason to back down.

"May I, then?" he asked, lifting his hands to the knot in Kenma's hair. Kenma nodded, and Tetsurou pulled it loose, watching as Kenma's hair tumbled, dark and shining down his back.

Slowly, Tetsurou pulled the comb through the silken strands. It slid through with ease, and the rhythm and movement of the comb and his fingers through Kenma's hair soon began to lull Tetsurou into a dream state, relaxed and calm with the sound of Lev softly humming, the light of the fire low and soothing.

"What have I done to deserve this honor?" Kenma murmured after some time had passed.

"Oh, just keeping me alive…"

"At present," Kenma reminded him quietly.

Tetsurou's fingers finally slowed. This was true. Had Kenma kept him alive, or was he just prolonging his death? Did it matter?

Instead of answering, he gathered Kenma's hair in his hands, silken strands running over his knuckles, and tied it back once again. Kenma reached back to help tie it, his cold fingers brushing against Tetsurou's, and the general realized something odd.

Even the boy's scalp didn't give off any warmth.

Before he could think on it further, Lev bounced up from the floor.

"Tetsu, Tetsu!" He bounded towards Tetsurou, and Kenma quickly moved out of the way. "My turn!"

"Lev, wait—!"

The boy practically slammed into him, and Tetsurou wheezed. It didn't hurt as badly as it would have a few weeks earlier, but there was a distinct ache in his back and side, and he groaned.

"Lev," Kenma admonished, his voice surprisingly sharp. "He's still not healed."

Lev looked chastened. "Sorry, Tetsu…"

Tetsurou fell back against the bedding, still groaning. "Kenma…"

"Are you really that hurt?" Kenma asked.

"Not sure… come… see…" He kept his hand over his eyes, moaning slightly pitifully, and heard the rustling of fabric as Kenma approached.

"Where did you get hit?" he asked.

Tetsurou mumbled something indistinct.

"What?"

"Hard to… talk," Tetsurou whispered.

Kenma leaned down closer, ear near Tetsurou's mouth. Tetsurou raised his head and pressed his lips to it.

He lay back down as Kenma slowly turned his head to look at him. Tetsurou smiled, innocently.

"I feel a bit better now," he said.

Kenma's expression didn't change at all—he was so placid that Tetsurou barely registered what was happening, when suddenly, there were lips, pressed to his own.

They were cool, but not cold, and soft—and Tetsurou could taste the faintest hint of something darkly sweet there, glancing and wispy. Far, far too soon, Kenma was pulling away, before he'd had enough of a chance to taste it. But the sweetness lingered.

"I'm glad all my effort wasn't wasted," Kenma said, voice low.

"M-me too," Tetsurou agreed, dumbly.

"You should rest now," Kenma told him. "Before you become… overstimulated."

Tetsurou could have told him that it might be too late for that already, but for once, he held his tongue.

As soon as Kenma had left the room, Lev let out a huge exhale, and said, "I thought you were going to almost die _again."_

"Whose fault is that?" Tetsurou asked, amused.

"Mine," Lev admitted. "And then I thought Kenma was going to kill me."

"Why would he do that?" Tetsurou asked.

Lev cocked his head at him. "I thought you already knew he liked you."

Well, after tonight, Tetsurou had his reassurances. But prior to that…

"Did you _just_ realize?" Lev asked.

"It is long past your bedtime," Tetsurou countered, and then made Lev get to sleep, despite his whining.

*

The snow continued to fall, and Tetsurou continued to recover. Soon he was well enough to stroll the grounds of the secluded inn and the road just beyond it.

The side road that led directly to the inn was always quiet and empty, hushed by snowfall and chilly air. Emerging from it onto the main road was like stepping back into the world, and suddenly the voices of people, carts clattering by, and the hoofbeats of horses were all thrown back into sharp relief.

But they never stayed on these busy streets for long—not when the emperor's enemies had run over the surrounding lands, and Tetsurou and Lev were still in danger.

So most often, they roamed the corridors of the inn as Tetsurou regained his strength. Sometimes he walked the outside paths next to Kenma while Lev ran in front of them, throwing himself down into the snow to cover himself with it gleefully, until his clothes were wet through and he was shivering, teeth chattering, grinning and still very proud of himself.

Other times, Tetsurou walked with Kenma, alone. They were alternately quiet, or they spoke to one another—never in a manner that could be termed talkative. But they learned more about the other, a little at a time.

And so the snow fell, and Tetsurou recovered. And he continued to kiss Kenma.

After the brief, barely qualifying kiss they'd shared indoors, Tetsurou found his urge to test the waters further was nearly insatiable. Though he knew what lay at the end of the road, once he reached it, the thought could not stop him from wanting to get closer to Kenma, however he could. Or perhaps that was why he sought Kenma out.

A kiss on the hand, when Kenma poured and offered him tea. On the forehead, when Kenma bid him goodnight in the evenings. The cheek, short and sudden, when Lev wasn't looking, so Tetsurou was the only one to see the way Kenma's eyes widened before he caught himself and forced his expression into something resembling reservation—not that Tetsurou was fooled, anymore.

And on the lips, out in the cold. Kenma's lips were always cool, though never colder than the air was. And the longer they kissed, the more they began to warm, from the heat of Tetsurou's skin. After many days of this, testing boundaries, he found he could make Kenma very, very warm.

His mind wondered about the rest of Kenma—about his cold hands, and the pale, bared skin of his shoulder as the red fabric slipped off it when Tetsurou had tormented him with light, teasing lips, barely brushing over Kenma's mouth, nipping over the soft flesh with his teeth. Tetsurou liked to look at him then, eyes almost closed, peering through his lashes. Kenma with his eyes softly shut, even while he made annoyed noises on every exhale, chasing Tetsurou's lips with his own.

And so he wondered, what it would take, to warm the whole of Kenma.

Before winter's end, he discovered the answer to that question.

One evening, late at night, when everything seemed even quieter than usual, Tetsurou woke as suddenly as if someone had called out to him. He sat up, and saw that he was the only one in the room. But still, he felt certain someone had wanted him to hear them.

He dressed quickly and left the room, suffering for his haste in the intensely chilled air outside. But he did not return to the room, and continued along the winding stone path leading from the guests quarters and to the rear of the inn, where a tucked away outdoor hot springs was nestled. Steam rose in sheets from the surface of the pool, and the snow that fell melted inches above the tranquil water. The faint glow of lanterns reflected off it.

Like the rest of the inn, it was empty, save one person.

"Have you been waiting here long?" Tetsurou asked, eyes fixed on the slender, unclothed form in the water.

Kenma faced away from him, his hair tied up in a knot that kept it above the water and left his shoulders and back bare and pale. At the sound of Tetsurou's voice he turned his head, slightly. "Not long, no."

"But you have been waiting for me," Tetsurou said.

"That's a different question," Kenma pointed out.

Tetsurou chuckled. "You're right about that. May I join you?"

"If you'd like," Kenma said permissively.

Tetsurou stepped out of his clothes and entered the water. It was so hot on his chilled skin at first that it made him wince, but he was able to ease into it slowly, and soon the warmth was a blessing rather than a discomfort. Kenma started to turn toward him, finally, but Tetsurou said, "Wait."

Kenma listened, and stayed facing forward, and Tetsurou moved through the water to stand right behind him.

"I haven't tried this yet," Tetsurou explained, bending slightly so he could press his lips to the nape of Kenma's neck, just below the fine strands of his hair. His skin was damp, though not from sweat—the absence of the taste of salt on his tongue let Tetsurou know it was just spring water, as he moved his lips to Kenma's shoulder.

Somehow, Kenma's scent still lingered, even in the baths. That strange, chilled spice smell, a little bit like a venom that heated Tetsurou's blood, as he slipped his arms around Kenma's body, pulling him close, daring far more here when they were utterly alone, naked, the water pooling hot around them.

"Kuroo, wait," Kenma said softly, even as he rolled his head back when Tetsurou slid his hands lower over his stomach to his hips, thumbs brushing over the sharp bones. The general pressed his lips to the crook of Kenma's neck, and higher still. "There's… I need to tell you…"

Tetsurou didn't need to hear whatever rationalities or apologies Kenma wanted to give. He knew the nature of their relationship, where it would lead, and he did not care. If Kenma wanted him, despite his dishonor, despite the life he owed, that was enough. As a man living on borrowed time, to be given this was to have his most fervent wish fulfilled. He raised his mouth to Kenma's neck, to kiss his beating pulse point.

But he found none there.

Very slowly, Tetsurou pulled away from the boy, as Kenma turned in the water to face him, his golden eyes steady and staring straight into Tetsurou's own. Tetsurou raised his hand, pressed two fingers to Kenma's neck, searching, trying to feel… but that yielded nothing. Still, he couldn't accept this so easily, and so he moved his touch lower. Lower until it rested over Kenma's thin chest, where the rhythm of his life could not so easily hide. But even here, it was still.

The beat of Kenma's pulse was not slow, or faint—it was not anything. Because it wasn't there.

His yellow stare did not stray from Tetsurou's face, and the inhuman beauty of his features seemed so much more pronounced, like he had shed a thin mask and become, finally, himself.

"What is it?" Tetsurou asked, quietly. "The thing you wanted to tell me."

"It wasn't a coincidence that I found you," Kenma said. "I came to you because it was time for me to do so."

"Then you are…" Tetsurou started to say, trailing off, as he searched for words that wouldn't sound ridiculous spoken aloud.

"Maybe what you might call a guide," Kenma offered.

Tetsurou had to believe this. The boy was not a boy, after all, though perhaps he'd been aware of that for some time. His eyes were too sharp to belong to a human, and he understood Tetsurou's heart far too well.

This boy with no heartbeat was a god of death.

By Kenma's small smile, Tetsurou knew he had figured it out correctly.

"You really are something, to have made it so far," Kenma told him. There was something like fondness in his tone, and it made Tetsurou feel some sort of echoing emotion inside himself, though he knew Kenma's thoughts and experiences must far surpass his own. "It isn't just one life that you owe."

"How many?" Tetsurou murmured.

"All of them," Kenma said, and even in the steaming water, his words chilled Tetsurou. "Your debt would have been well-paid had you died in that castle but the odds were against you. First, they left you alive. And then…"

"Then I failed, as well."

Kenma tilted his head. "Is that how you view it?"

"Well, here I am," Tetsurou said. Still alive, while so many others had fallen.

Kenma moved closer, stretched out a hand, and placed it over Tetsurou's chest. His fingers were warm, though Tetsurou now knew that came from the hot water, and not the movement of blood beneath his skin.

"Do you regret that?" Kenma asked. He looked up at Tetsurou, light eyes under a thick fall of dark lashes.

"Right now?" Tetsurou asked. He thought of Lev, sleeping away in his room, safe and warm. He thought of the past months, stone-fire heated tea shared between himself, the child, and Kenma behind sturdy wood and delicate rice paper walls, as the snow blanketed the outside world. He thought of the first time he had heard Kenma laugh. "No. Not one bit."

Kenma nodded. He slid his hand up from Tetsurou's chest, over his shoulder and into his hair. "I see," was all he had to say in response, before he leaned up and pressed his lips to Tetsurou's.  

Very rarely was Kenma the one to close the distance between them of his own accord, and Tetsurou let himself be pulled deep into the kiss, felt his heart jolt, as strongly as though it were trying to coax Kenma's own into beating. Kenma let his mouth fall open, welcoming Tetsurou inside him so naturally that it immediately led to further considerations, racing thoughts. When Tetsurou let his hands wander, fingers indenting the small of the god's back, Kenma didn't pull away. Everything he'd been holding back now all seemed to be released in a great rush.

The slender god pressed himself closer to Tetsurou, hands slowly winding around his neck. He kissed in long, uninterrupted stretches, lips moving almost lazily, tongue a soft slide against Tetsurou's own, and Tetsurou found he was always the one who had to break the kiss first to gasp for air, as much as he hated to do so. Kenma watched him closely when he did, leaning closer, closer, until they inevitably surged back to meet again. And it was truly inevitable—Tetsurou found himself drawn again and again, to the sharp bite of Kenma's taste on his tongue, like a man starving.

"Kenma—" Tetsurou murmured, voice heavy. "Kenma, do you—want—"

Kenma let out the softest laugh. "If I didn't, do you think you'd still be alive right now?"

"I—we—"

"Not here," Kenma said, somehow calm, interrupting Tetsurou's inelegant sputtering. Tetsurou could only nod.

He stared as Kenma pulled himself smoothly from the springs—stared absolutely unabashedly, at the tendrils of water flowing over his back, his hips, and lower, lower still. He kept staring as Kenma turned, holding his hand out to Tetsurou.

"Follow?" the boy asked. It was less of a question, and more of an expectation.

So Tetsurou did.

Kenma's room looked much like Tetsurou's own, and in the midst of everything else that was happening (or possibly about to happen), Tetsurou had a thought.

"Kenma, this inn…"

"It is mine," the boy replied. "Somewhere I can bring people when I'm not quite sure of them yet."

"But Lev—"

"You were a special case," Kenma reminded him. "But any human can enter and leave this place as I see fit."

"So I am trapped," Tetsurou said, "and at your mercy."

Kenma raised an eyebrow. "If that's how you choose to look at it."

"It is, indeed," Tetsurou confirmed.

"And you're still not afraid…" Kenma said quietly, almost to himself.

Tetsurou was a great many things. But afraid was not one of them. He closed the distance between himself and Kenma in just a few steps, and pulled Kenma in, hands on his face, foreheads, noses, lips almost touching. Golden eyes staring wide into his own.

"I'm not afraid of you," he said, and when he kissed Kenma this time, it was with nothing but intent, pure and hungry.

Kenma responded in kind, his slender hands strong where they reached up to grip Tetsurou tightly—surprisingly strong, and sure, and, Tetsurou thought, maybe just a little insistent, eager to get back to the feeling of skin on skin, when just a moment ago there had been nothing between them.

When he pushed the red cloth off Kenma's shoulders, sliding it off him so that Kenma stood naked in front of him once again, the death god did nothing to help or hinder him. He let the soft cloth pool at his feet, as though he were standing in a pool of blood. His body was painted by the glow of the candlelight, much smaller and more slender than Tetsurou, who was still tall and broad, though he had thinned from the months of recovery.

But just looking at Kenma, he knew that the boy could never be imperfect, as he was, as other humans were.

"Kenma…" Tetsurou breathed, lowering himself to his knees, and Kenma stared down at him, eyes burning. Tetsurou pressed his lips to Kenma's stomach, felt it jump under his touch, and glanced upward to meet his yellow gaze. "I should have tried this sooner."

"You would have passed out," Kenma said, still pointedly blunt, even as Tetsurou swept his lips over his skin, nearer to his hip bones and his hardening cock, making his eyelids flutter. "Speaking of which—you still can't overexert."

Tetsurou paused, ghosting his hot breath over Kenma's erection as he contemplated that. "I have an idea," he said, as Kenma's hand wrapped tight around his shoulder.

He threaded his fingers through Kenma's, pulled him lower, to join him on the floor so Tetsurou could lay back against the bedding that Kenma had likely never used. He guided Kenma into position on top of him, legs straddling his hips—he felt like his breath was being stolen at the sight of Kenma, naked and rising over him, still watching him with those eyes, though there was so much heat in them, now.

"This will still likely be too much for you," Kenma said. He licked his lips, once, long and slow.

Tetsurou could not stop the groan that escaped him. "I _want_ you to be too much for me." To any other gods, he sent out a prayer not to interfere, this time. If this was to be his end, then he would gladly meet it.

Kenma leaned forward, and the shifting of his body was torture—dragging, pressuring, grinding in all the best ways, and Tetsurou slid his hands up the god's back as Kenma whispered to him, "Will you prepare me?"

Tetsurou began to nod, but then realized with a sinking feeling that he had nothing to do this _with._ "Dammit—Kenma—"

Suddenly, there was something glinting in front of his nose—a small, black glass bottle, the material winking in the light. Kenma held it between his fingers.

"The inn will accommodate you however it sees fit," he said, and the little hint of mischief in his tone made Tetsurou tug him down to taste his mouth again.

"And will you accommodate me however I fit?" Tetsurou murmured, voice dropped low with anticipation as he pulled the bottle from Kenma's fingers.

Kenma blinked at him slowly, unimpressed.

"You must know by now this is how I am," Tetsurou said, with a grin. He opened the small bottle and swirled his fingers through the slippery contents.

"I do know," Kenma sighed. "Regrettably, I've grown to… enjoy it."

Tetsurou could practically hear the word _distasteful_ buzzing behind his lips. He hummed, pulling Kenma up higher, where he could put his mouth against Kenma's ear, and reach behind him, fingers gliding over smooth, supple skin, searching. "Let me endear you further, then," he said.

Kenma gasped, softly, when Tetsurou pushed inside him, one finger sliding in slow past that tight outer ring of muscle. He sank in a little bit, then pulled back out again, repeated the motion until he could finally push deep, all the way inside. He watched Kenma's face all the while, watched the way his eyes slid shut and how his tongue darted out to wet his lips. He did not dare look away—Kenma was the most captivating sight he'd ever witnessed.

When he slid a second finger inside Kenma to finally help stretch him, the god's mouth fell open, a high sound tumbling past his lips.

"Is that—" Tetsurou began to ask, but Kenma shook his head.

"Keep going," he murmured. Then he bent low, and brushed his lips to Tetsurou's. "I'm fine."

Tetsurou shuddered, twining his arm around Kenma's shoulder to hold him in place as he kissed him. He kept stretching Kenma, curling his fingers inside him, and Kenma sighed low, and started to move his hips, the slightest bit—a gentle roll and drag, working himself on Tetsurou's hand. Tetsurou could feel every tiny movement through the thin fabric of his clothes, and soon he was gasping into Kenma's mouth as his fingers thrust inside him, hard and relentless.

Kenma tilted his head back—his hair was coming down, dark tendrils brushing his pale shoulders. His lips were swelling red and wet thanks to Tetsurou's mouth, tongue and teeth, and when he spoke, it was hazy and slurred.

"Now," he said. "Are you ready—"

"I have been," Tetsurou said, "for _weeks."_

Kenma sat back as Tetsurou pulled his hand away. The boy trailed his fingers down to his chest, to the sash that was very loosely tying his clothes closed. Kenma slipped his fingers into the folds and pushed them open, until they fell to the sides and Tetsurou was bared underneath him.

His body still bore the evidence of the long winter's struggle. Still fading bruises around his ribs, closed over wounds that would leave scars—and he had many of those, old ones along his stomach and chest and sides. Kenma traced his fingers over them, touch finally lingering as he had not allowed it to before. His hands on the bruises stung mildly, and Tetsurou hissed in something that was not quite pain—it felt _real,_ to be touched like that.

Kenma pooled some of the oil in the small bottle in his palm, and Tetsurou tried to prop himself onto his elbows to watch. The position strained his ribs, and Kenma pushed on his shoulder to get him to lie back down. It was a familiar gesture, one he'd done many times since they had met, when he wanted Tetsurou to stop exerting too much. But now, he slipped his hand down near to where he sat straddling Tetsurou, and wrapped it around Tetsurou's aching cock.

The low candlelight suddenly seemed far too bright, and the air too thin. Tetsurou shut his eyes and sucked in a breath, conscious of the thin walls as his mouth opened on a moan. Lev was sleeping a few rooms away. Tetsurou covered his mouth with the back of his hand to stay quiet as Kenma slowly slicked his cock from base to tip, stroking him firmly. His hand was cool again, but it did not matter—Tetsurou's entire body felt as though it were aflame. When Kenma rolled his palm over the tip, Tetsurou had to stop him.

"Kenma—" he choked, "Kenma, I won't last."

Kenma nodded, wrapping his hand instead around the base of Tetsurou's cock to hold him steady. He raised himself up on his knees and guided Tetsurou into place, wordless, fully focused on this task.

 _Now_ the air was truly pulled right from his lungs, as Kenma sank down over him, slow and measured, until Tetsurou was buried right to the hilt. He gripped Kenma's waist tightly, maybe too tight, but his limbs and fingers felt locked up, unable to loosen. And he realized that Kenma's skin, beneath his, was not chilled.

"You're warm…" Tetsurou breathed.

"Mmm," Kenma murmured. Surprise? An agreement? Tetsurou wasn't sure. And it ceased to matter anyway, when Kenma picked himself up, and then rocked his hips over Tetsurou's body. "Tell me if it hurts you," he whispered, and Tetsurou shook his head.

Even if it hurt, that small pain couldn't possibly overcome this feeling. Tetsurou had been with many people in his life—he was not inexperienced. But this was something else, something different. Kenma, naked above him, bathed in the fire's glow, head tilted back as he rode Tetsurou in smooth, slow strokes—that was transcendence.

And Tetsurou could help him, could roll his hips up to meet Kenma's—perhaps not the most advisable idea, as he felt the slight burn of pain in his side along the sword wound. But it was Kenma who had saved him from that. And this moment, when he could finally show Kenma something in return, some pleasure at Tetsurou's hands, like he'd wanted to give him for _so long…_ Tetsurou would not let that pass him by.

He slid one hand over Kenma's back to support him there, helping him keep up his steady, languid pace. His other hand he brushed over the insides of Kenma's thighs—and they were warm, too, almost _hot—_ and so was his pink, flushed cock, when Tetsurou took him in his hand to stroke him at the same pace as their measured thrusts, up to rub his thumb over the tip, pressing lightly at Kenma's slit.

Kenma trembled over him, and tightened around him, and Tetsurou felt as though he could hear his own heartbeat, pounding slowly in his ears.

And like Kenma had heard it too, the boy leaned forward, touching his hand to Tetsurou's chest. Tetsurou's heart jumped, then, but did not speed up—it beat instead unnaturally slow, each thud seeming to come later than the last. He rolled his hips, to the heavy drum within him, and Kenma cried out, the angle of his body shifted just right, for Tetsurou to press deeply, perfectly inside him.

As his heartbeat slowed, so, too, did everything else. He could see the long, graceful glide of Kenma's hair, the dark fall of it as it slipped down over his shoulder to brush over Tetsurou's chest in a gentle caress. He could see the way Kenma's eyelashes fluttered, and then, to his shock, realized there was the slightest flush in his cheeks. Barely there—but the glow of the lanterns lit it rosy and pink, like his mouth—where Tetsurou stared, transfixed, at the wet drag of his tongue as Kenma slid it against his lips.

"Tetsurou," he breathed, and the general felt the end nearing.

He worked his hand over Kenma's cock and the boy closed his eyes fully, nodding his approval as he rocked back to meet Tetsurou within him, burying him deep. His fingers were trembling where they lay over Tetsurou's heart.

"Kenma," he said, or perhaps begged. "Kenma, I want you to come for me—"

And somehow, though Kenma had already done so much for him, so much more than he deserved, he was willing to do this, too.

His voice was still soft, when he spilled, still pitched low, for only Tetsurou to hear. He painted Tetsurou's stomach and chest in wet warmth, squeezing tight around Tetsurou's cock. But it was the furrow between his brows as he shut his eyes, the hitch in his voice and pleasure across his face, that finally sent Tetsurou past the edge.

The sudden jolt of his hips bumped Kenma forward, and was slightly painful for the injured general. Kenma opened his eyes and took Tetsurou's hand, fingers clenched around Tetsurou's own, gripping tightly. And it was that Tetsurou focused on—that point of contact, and then the unraveling, spinning heat in his gut as he filled Kenma deep inside, hips rolling unevenly, gasping the name of the god seated above him.

Kenma did not let go of his hand, as he leaned in and kissed him once more, and told him, "I'm glad I found you."

Tetsurou kissed back fiercely, unable to speak. He was glad, too. Glad that at the lowest moment of his life, struck down into the dirt, Death had come to find him. When he finally finished, shivers rolling through his body, exhausted and spent—as Kenma's fingers brushed over his forehead and through his hair, he felt that same peace.

For the first time, Kenma did not leave him alone in bed to sleep. He helped Tetsurou clean up, wiped them both down, and then lay down with him. Tetsurou trailed his fingers over Kenma's shoulder—his skin was still not quite cool, yet.

"That was worth the wait, I'd say," he ventured, once he trusted his voice to be steady.

Kenma snorted. "Yes, I've been encouraging your recovery all this time for just such a purpose."

"Have you?" Tetsurou asked delightedly.

 _"No,_ " Kenma sighed. Then he turned, to rest his forehead against Tetsurou's. "It was because you still have one more life to protect."

"You're not a very efficient god of death."

"Maybe not," Kenma said. "But I have waited long, for you."

Tetsurou smiled. "And how do you feel, now you have me?"

Kenma breathed in, then out, quietly. "A bit like I'm living."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [[@esselley](http://esselley.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr, [@Esselle_hq](https://twitter.com/Esselle_hq) on Twitter]


	3. spring

**_spring_ **

 

 _the pink flowers bloom_  
_dancing, carried on the wind_ _  
until all are gone_

 

In the mild air, new life made itself known.

The blossoms of the cherry and plum trees would bloom, and fall, and drift away, captivating the people that moved below in the fragrant rain, their joy as fleeting as the time of the flowers.

Was it the beauty of life, or its frailty, that caused such a fondness?

 

Winter, it seemed, had reached its close.

The air warmed slowly, the snow fell lighter, and soon, the cherry blossoms would begin to bloom.

It had come time to leave the inn.

Lev cried the night before they were due to leave. Though he was usually good about entertaining himself in the evenings, which gave Tetsurou and Kenma a certain amount of privacy, that night he refused to leave their side and spent most of it resolutely facedown in Kenma's lap, hiccuping through his tears.

"I would have thought he'd want to leave," Tetsurou said, after the boy had fallen asleep. He was lounging in bed, but Kenma sat up still, absently rubbing a hand over Lev's back. He had passed out sprawled across Kenma's knees. "Not that this place isn't nice, but I can't imagine it's the most exciting for someone his age."

"Don't you think he's had enough excitement to last him for quite some time?" Kenma asked.

And it dawned upon Tetsurou. The child had already had one home, and his entire family, violently taken from him. Now he'd come to know another place, loved the silent innkeeper, was safe inside as Tetsurou healed, and Kenma watched over them both.

"I wish he had nothing to fear," he said softly.

Kenma finally shifted from where he knelt, picking Lev up without so much as causing him to stir in his sleep. He settled the boy onto the bedding next to Tetsurou and lay down on his other side, resting his hand on Tetsurou's shoulder reassuringly. Tetsurou reached for it, kissed the back of his knuckles.

"There isn't anything he needs to be afraid of," Kenma said, "while we're with him."

"What happens after we're gone?" Tetsurou asked.

"We'll make sure he's safe, first."

That was all they could do, Tetsurou supposed. For now, they just needed to stay on the road.

*

The winding road was a different place under a clear blue sky, the air warming around them day by day. They still kept to a lonely trail, but it felt less isolated without the unceasing blanket of cold, white snow. Now there was birdsong in the trees, and small furry creatures that scampered quickly away as they neared, prompting Lev to give chase every time without fail. The world around them was being colored bright and vivid.

They found places to stay off the beaten path—small inns that were normally quite empty, though never with the feeling of sacred seclusion Kenma's own had held. The death god seemed somehow to always have enough coin to pay for their food and rooms. Always two—one for Lev, and another for Tetsurou and Kenma. This did not escape the general's notice.

"Do the long days weary you?" he asked Kenma one night, not without a hint of teasing. It was easy to tease when Kenma let him, glaring somewhat unconvincingly down at Tetsurou where he lay low on the bed, cheek resting on Kenma's bare stomach. "Is that why you insist upon getting our own room, where you can recover?"

"You give me barely any recovery time," Kenma said blandly. "And you know it."

Tetsurou did know it. He grinned, and tilted his head to kiss Kenma's hip. "How _do_ you get the money to pay for the rooms?" he asked, curiously.

"How do you think?"

Tetsurou hummed. "I've heard a story," he said, "that there is a god that ferries souls to the afterlife across a great river. And they must pay their passage in coin, which they are buried with." He glanced up at Kenma and burst out laughing at the look on the boy's face.

"There is not enough money in the world," the death god said, "that could convince me to row an endless line of dead people by _boat."_

Tetsurou rolled off of Kenma and onto his back, clutching his stomach in glee. "Oh, Kenma, stop—I've got tears in my eyes—"

"I'm a god," Kenma said, irritably. "Money is of no consequence to me, unlike certain hard luck generals I've had the misfortune to run across."

"Kenma…" Tetsurou purred, placatingly. "Don't be upset."

"I'm not upset," Kenma said. "But I know you're not foolish enough to think I ask for nothing in return."

"I have, in fact, been known to be quite wise," Tetsurou said, ignoring Kenma's small scoff. "In fact, there's things I had in mind for us tonight that you could consider a show of gratitude." He pulled himself up higher toward Kenma, leaning in with a smile.

"How is that different from any other night, Kuroo?" Kenma asked, sounding exasperated. But when Tetsurou's lips met his, they found there not a single protest.

It was hardly just the roof over their heads that they owed Kenma thanks for (though that certainly had been a blessing from the start). If he looked to the start of winter, compared to that spring, Tetsurou felt as though he could hardly recognize himself or Lev. They had been irrevocably changed twice over, first on that fateful cold night they had lost everything, and now thanks to what they had gained back, with Kenma.

Now, more than it being just a convenience, Tetsurou felt a certain sense of relief, when he thought of Kenma bearing witness to his death.

The season changed with almost as much variance as they had, and soon, it was time for spring to show its true colors. There was a hand-painted scroll hung in the tea room of the inn they had stayed in that night, with delicate watercolor drawings of trees with blossoming flowers. The scroll proclaimed the dates of the upcoming cherry blossom viewing in several of the nearby towns, and the festival accompanying the occasion.

"Tetsu!" Lev exclaimed, nose practically plastered against the scroll in excitement.

Tetsurou and Kenma exchanged a glance.

"There are going to be so many crowds," Kenma sighed.

"There's also going to be so much wine," Tetsurou added.

"Fine," Kenma said morosely, and Tetsurou and Lev beamed at each other.

It was only a few days' journey to one of the nearby towns that would be celebrating the festival, and soon they had arrived, right in the midst of the gathering. Kenma and Tetsurou both turned out to be correct in their assumptions—there were a great many people, milling about the streets, in all their colorful silk and satin festival clothing, bright sashes tied around their waists, the cloth detailed with embroidered flower designs.

And there was, indeed, an abundance of drink.

"Tetsu, Tetsu!"

Tetsurou counted himself fortunate to be tall, able to easily scan over the heads of the crowd to search for the troublesome young boy in his charge. Lev was standing by a wooden festival booth that seemed to be selling some kind of sweet dumpling. Tetsurou threaded his way through the crowd, careful of the bottle of newly purchased rice wine he was holding onto.

By the time he'd made it over, Lev was already stuffing a dumpling into his mouth, cheeks chipmunking, courtesy of Kenma. The small god raised his eyes at Tetsurou as he approached.

"Who's that for?" he asked.

"Us," Tetsurou said, grinning. "It's tradition, Kenma."

Kenma's eyes slid away from him. "I suppose so."

Tetsurou frowned. Perhaps he had not been meant to see it, but he could detect the avoidance in those yellow cat's eyes. With Lev hovering near them, he decided not to pry, yet.

The morning and afternoon passed in gentle enjoyment—the pleasant breeze carried on it the smell of delicious food, the sound of laughter filling the air, and the pink blossoms the whole of the town had come to see. They walked under the blooming trees, watching Lev with his awed upturned eyes as the flowers fell on his pale cheeks, tinted the same color as the petals, reaching out to try and catch them if he could. When Tetsurou turned to look at Kenma, he could see that the child's happiness was reflected on his face.

But it seemed like just that. A reflection. Below the calm waters of his expression, something dwelled deeper.

"Lev, are you hungry?" Tetsurou called to the boy as he ran out in front of them.

"He _just_ ate, how could he possibly—" Kenma started to say, but:

"Yes!" Lev yelped, scrambling back to Tetsurou. _"Starving!"_

Kenma put a hand over his face as Tetsurou laughed loudly.

"Tell you what," the general said. He fished out some money and dropped it into Lev's hands. "Whatever you can buy with that—and carry—you can eat."

"Really?!" Lev asked, eyes shining.

"Yes," Tetsurou said. "Come back here, okay?"

Lev jumped into the air with a whoop and tore off toward the food stalls. Kenma stared after him.

"That was a _lot_ of money," he murmured. _"My_ money."

"I thought it was of no consequence to you," Tetsurou said, stretching innocently.

"He's going to get sick," Kenma told him. “Which I do not particularly want happening near me.”

"He'll be fine," Tetsurou said, waving a hand. He pulled Kenma over to a nearby spot in the grass. "Besides, this buys us a little time."

"For what?" Kenma asked him.

Tetsurou leaned into him, lips close to his ear. "Why are you so uncomfortable here?" Kenma went still next to him and he drew back slightly, to look into the boy's eyes. He reached out his hand, brushing his thumb over Kenma's knuckles lightly. "Kenma…"

"It's spring," Kenma said suddenly, abruptly.

Tetsurou tilted his head. "Yes? It is."

Kenma sighed. "Do you know why people believe these cherry blossoms are beautiful, Kuroo?"

Tetsurou looked up into the tree branches. He was adept at describing the beauty of another man or woman, skilled at appraising the way they appeared outside and the more difficult task of understanding their interior. But… "I'm not very good at determining that for things that do not draw breath," he admitted wryly.

"You seem to enjoy trying in my case," Kenma remarked, and Tetsurou saw his mistake.

"That's—different…" he said. And it was, because Kenma was as living a being as any of the other people around them, perhaps more than any.

"These flowers don't last," Kenma said. "They're beautiful _because_ they'll be gone so soon. So people cherish them. Even though they know the outcome."   

He raised a hand, palm up, and a little pink petal twirled down into it, as though he'd been waiting. Waiting… Kenma was always waiting, Tetsurou realized. For something, someone.

Just as they all were. Every single person was waiting, for Kenma, or someone like him, to come find them one day. Tetsurou was extraordinarily lucky to have been found so soon, to know him like he did. To know death would welcome him so wholly when he was ready.

"That's life," Tetsurou said, putting his hand over Kenma's, curling their fingers closed over the petal. "And it _is_ beautiful."

"Yes," Kenma agreed, looking straight into his eyes, and there Tetsurou saw that sadness. "But then what am I? A destroyer? A monster—"

"No," Tetsurou said, shaking his head, his heart constricting. "No, Kenma, you just said it—without you, life wouldn't _be_ beautiful in the first place. It would be nothing special at all."

Kenma's eyes widened. His lips parted, as he made to speak, but then a loud voice was crying out to them, and they both turned to see Lev madly racing back, laden down with food. He had turned his clothes into a pouch to carry it all with. He skidded to a halt in front of them and dropped the lot of it onto the grass, plopping down amidst his bounty.

"I got a lot!" he said brightly.

"So you did!" Tetsurou said proudly, ruffling his hair. "Think you can eat all of it?"

"Yup!" Lev said. He was already opening the bright paper packaging on one of the cream filled rolls.

"Perfect," Tetsurou said. "Stay right here, and don't move. If you can do that, I'll give you a piggyback ride the rest of the day."

Lev's eyes popped open wide. "The whole day?!"

"Until it gets dark," Tetsurou confirmed. "But you can't move, got it? I need to show Kenma something, and then we'll be back."

"Got it!" Lev told him, mouth already full of bread and cream.

Tetsurou grabbed Kenma's hand. "Come on."

"What?" Kenma asked, voice louder than usual. "Where are we—is it alright to leave him?"

"He'll be fine," Tetsurou said, over his shoulder, pulling the god along in his wake. "It's going to take him the rest of the day to eat all that anyway."

Away from the center of the festival, apart from the feasting and crowds and games, it was quiet. Soon, there were no more people in sight, and all the sound had faded, save for the soft tread of their feet along the petal strewn grass.

 _"Kuroo,_ " Kenma said, as he dutifully followed the other man. "What did you want to show—"

Tetsurou spun, put his hands on Kenma's shoulders, and pushed him up against one of the cherry trees. He only had a moment to take in the sight of Kenma's surprised expression before their lips met. Tetsurou kissed him softly, but insistently. Slowly, he felt Kenma's unease melt away as his shoulders dropped, his hands rising to touch his fingers to Tetsurou's face. He had never yet felt as cold as he had in winter.

But even if he had, it wouldn't have mattered to Tetsurou at all. He cupped Kenma's face in his hands, breaking the kiss the barest amount, so that his lips still moved over Kenma's when he spoke.

"You _aren't_ a monster," he said. "Kenma? You don't really believe that, do you?"

"I…" Kenma's tongue darted out to wet his lips, flicking over Tetsurou's own. Tetsurou watched his bright eyes as they lowered. "I am what I exist to do," the god said finally.

"Because it is _necessary,"_ Tetsurou said. When Kenma didn't look at him, he kissed his cheek. "If you're a monster, what about me?"

Kenma's eyes found his again. "You're human. And humans make war. How they view it is what defines them."

Tetsurou had never loved war. He had never seen it as a great and honorable thing, like many of his peers. To protect the things he did love, he had to fight. And so he fought. So he killed.

"How do you view death, Kenma?" Tetsurou asked him.

Kenma shook his head. "I _am._ So I don't _know."_

"Well…" Tetsurou straightened, and tapped at his chin. "That's what I wanted to show you."

He wrapped his arms around Kenma before Kenma knew what was happening, and fell, back into the soft bed of flower petals. Kenma let out the most undignified noise Tetsurou had ever heard him make, a soft, surprised yelp as he landed flat on top of Tetsurou in the grass.

"Kuroo!" he gasped, as the man in question rolled him over so he could grin down at him.

"And thus it was," he pronounced overdramatically, "that the mortal man conquered death." He bent low again, to kiss Kenma before the god could say anything. He made sure it was a kiss Kenma couldn't turn down, either, mouths sliding softly together, slotted just so that Kenma had to part his lips on a sigh, and Tetsurou slipped his tongue inside Kenma's mouth where it was wet and bittersweet.

He kissed him until Kenma's fingers had tangled in his hair, until his thighs, too, had parted, for Tetsurou to lie snugly between them, until a low hum worked its way from the god's throat. Tetsurou grinned, tracing the tip of his nose along Kenma's cheek.

"And death itself was pleased," he murmured.

Kenma pulled at his hair, just light enough for him to feel it. "Kuroo…" he said, voice low, granting permission.

"Oh, I'm far from done," Tetsurou reassured him, as he pushed himself lower. Kenma's clothes were already in disarray from the long walk to their secluded spot, the sudden kiss, being tossed into the grass. Tetsurou easily slipped it free of the sash to spread the red fabric open. He couldn't help but cast a small, sly smirk upwards at Kenma as he took in the sight of him, already hard, cock lying flushed and pink against his stomach.

"What makes you think you can give me that look," Kenma asked, "when it's your fault I'm in this state?"

"Confidence," Tetsurou replied, and then wheezed as Kenma kneed him in the stomach. _"And_ I'm very happy to see you like this."

He lifted one of Kenma's legs to kiss his soft inner thigh, near his knee, working his way higher, higher, and Kenma shuddered as Tetsurou edged closer to his cock—trailing kisses over his hips, and at the crease of his thigh. When he licked over it with just the very tip of his tongue, Kenma hissed, reaching down to tip the general's chin up with his fingers.

"As though you haven't seen me like this before," Kenma said, almost a reprimand.

"Each time is better than the last," Tetsurou said—utterly truthful—and to demonstrate he brushed his lips over the base of Kenma's cock, light and teasing.

Kenma's hips jumped, and he let his fingers skirt up Tetsurou's jaw, over his cheek, and into his hair as Tetsurou began to lavish attention over him in earnest, laying his tongue flat against Kenma's shaft to lick up it slowly, before he popped the tip into his mouth.

"Kuroo—" Kenma groaned. _"Here?"_

Tetsurou laved his tongue wetly over the tip of Kenma's cock before pulling off to say, "There's no one around. Just keep your voice down."

Kenma still managed to glare. "I don't think I'm the one we need to worry about—" He cut off, words stuttering to a halt as Tetsurou sank down over him slowly, just an inch at a time, setting an agonizing pace. Kenma was absolutely right, he was never loud. The leaves of the trees rustling in the wind, dusting them with the pink blooms as they scattered to the earth, were almost louder than his voice.

But still, every gasp, every small exhalation, every choked moan rang in Tetsurou's ears. He wanted to swallow them as easily as he did Kenma, sliding his lips steadily up and down the god's shaft, the taste of Kenma trembling under him spiced and biting on his tongue. Kenma's smell was sharp in his nose, too, something like crushed leaves of herb and mint, but darker than those airy scents, filling his senses as he sunk his fingers into the flesh of Kenma's thigh, pressed hard into his skin.

"I don't—understand—" Kenma mumbled, and Tetsurou flicked heavy-lidded eyes up to gaze at him again. And it was good, to see Kenma like that, head tipped back and tilted to the side in the grass, hair coming loose from the band holding it back, eyes nearly shut but burning with heat. "What is it—you want—to show—"

Tetsurou rose off him again, replaced his mouth with his hand as he pulled himself back up to lay beside the god. His own cock was hard, pressing firmly against Kenma's hip, but he ignored it for the time being. Kenma stared up at him, eyes hazy as Tetsurou continued to bring him off in long, smooth strokes of his hand.

"I wanted to show you that you exist for so much more than what you do," he murmured, lips pressed to Kenma's ear. "I told you I'm not afraid of you."

Kenma's eyes fluttered. "I don't want you to be."

"I know," Tetsurou said. He leaned in to kiss Kenma, just press their lips together, chaste and cherished. But his hand still behaved wickedly, fingers tickling low over Kenma's shaft before smoothing back up to rub his thumb over the head of Kenma's cock, and Kenma's whole back arched, his red robe falling entirely off his shoulders as he rolled his hips up into Tetsurou's hand. "Kenma, you're beautiful—you look so good like this. I know you're dangerous, you _are_ deadly, but you—you _like_ this. You _can_ want this, too. You do, don't you?"

Kenma's mouth dropped open. "I—I want _you—"_

"I know," Tetsurou said again, mouthing over Kenma's slack jaw, working his way around to underneath his chin. "I know—"

Kenma shifted and pulled at him, and Tetsurou had to use his free hand to brace himself, to keep from falling directly on top of the god—not that it would have hurt him. But then Kenma was reaching inside of his clothes, pushing and pulling until they were sufficiently out of the way, wrapping a small hand around Tetsurou's aching cock—the general shut his eyes briefly at the way it felt, to suddenly be touched when he needed it so badly.

"I want you _now,_ " Kenma said, eyes flashing, and Tetsurou nodded, helpless, as he caged Kenma's head between his arms, lowering himself fully, until he could grind against the god, hips rocking, and Kenma slid his hands around his shoulders and moaned, softly, but in earnest.

"Kenma, you feel—" He cut off as Kenma rolled his hips up, and they slid together perfectly, and Tetsurou couldn't get much more out than a broken, "Oh… _yes—_ "

Kenma pulled him close, his thin arms squeezing inhumanly hard. But even that made Tetsurou's heart feel tight, knowing Kenma could hold onto something as fiercely as this. Knowing that something was _him._

"I'm—I have to—" Kenma sobbed quietly, but stopped. And then, almost as if amending himself, he whispered, "I _want_ to—ah, _ah—_ Tetsu—"

"That's it, Kenma," Tetsurou said, teeth grit. His whole body felt clenched tight, ready to snap— "I'm right with you, I'm not going anywhere just yet—"

Kenma let out a wavering sigh, hips pressing up hard against Tetsurou's, and he felt the warmth of Kenma's release over his skin, hot against his own cock, slicking their bodies—he buried his face in Kenma's neck, grazing his teeth at the juncture of his shoulder, biting down a bit harder than was necessary as his own release found him, gentle and pulsing as it flowed over and out of him, like the hands that stroked down his back, trembling the slightest bit where they held him. For awhile, he lay there, satisfied and hazy, the cool breeze soothing over his overheated skin.

After a long moment, Kenma ran light fingers through his hair, saying, "We should go back."

Tetsurou nodded, rolling onto his side to look at the other man. "I have proven the most important thing."

"Which is?" Kenma asked, a smile twitching at the corner of his lips.

"You find me irresistible," Tetsurou said, nonchalantly. "An unavoidably human characteristic."

Kenma pulled the general’s disheveled clothes over his head to cover up Tetsurou’s grin. "Humans, then, are very flawed."

When they had cleaned up, and returned to the spot under the tree they had left Lev, they found him fast asleep in the shade under the pink branches, half of his food uneaten and strewn about him, and the rest presumably in his belly, judging by the chocolate smeared all over his fingers and mouth and the round profile of his waistline beneath his clothes.

"Maybe it's time we head back to the inn," Tetsurou said.

"It will probably take us some time," Kenma said, "given that you promised to carry him all the way back."

Tetsurou's face pulled into a frown at the sudden realization. But he kept his promise. Lev remained fast asleep the whole way back, and they settled him in bed early.

The rest of the night was spent in each other's company, sharing drinks and stories and frequently, a kiss. The human touch to remind each other they were there, by each other's side, with an existence that held much more than what lay behind them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [[@esselley](http://esselley.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr, [@Esselle_hq](https://twitter.com/Esselle_hq) on Twitter]


	4. summer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One year later, we are finally back -- completed for Ellie's birthday! Happy birthday, love <3 I'm sorry this took me 'til now! 
> 
> (Please note that this went up to 5 chapters, all are now posted!)

**_summer_ **

 

 _still heat lies over_  
_water in rice fields, quiet_ _  
like life that knows peace_

 

Now, the rains would start.

Hot days, heat settled, and the water from the sky at once a reprieve and an instigator, the air muggy and bearing down upon those on the ground. The months always seemed still, like they might carry on forever.

Was it this illusion that made summer the season of nostalgia?

 

Heat moved in, rolled across the land in sweltering waves. The cool comfort of spring was pushed aside by the hot, humid air, the long days of sunlight, and the steady chirping drone of the cicadas, their insistent lullaby unceasing.

They bought Lev a net and box in a small shop along the road they traveled, and spent many of their days walking at a reduced pace under the sun high above, watching as Lev trundled through the grass like a kitten on a hunt, until he spied one of the large bugs on the bark of a tree or skittering across the ground. Then he would pounce, hollering and shouting, almost invariably scaring it away instead of actually managing to catch it. But slowly, the box began to fill with his new pets. Kenma refused to let Lev bring it near him.

"He's gotten… bigger, hasn't he?" Kenma asked Tetsurou one day. They had stopped for lunch by a stream, letting their feet dangle in the running water to cool off. Lev had waded into it entirely, up to his waist, but the current was not strong.

"That's what we do," Tetsurou informed him playfully, draping an arm over Kenma's shoulders. But Kenma didn't respond to the teasing, his eyes watching Lev.

"I've never been around humans for this long," he said. "Especially not the young ones. I've never gotten to… watch them grow."

"You know, neither have I, now that I think about it." Tetsurou smiled, and tilted his face up, closing his eyes as the sun rested heavy on his skin. "I'm glad I got the chance to watch him, at least for a little while."

He felt a hand take his, fingers tracing the long lines of his own. He glanced back down, to see Kenma watching him.

"You don't… want to prolong that?" Kenma asked him.

Tetsurou shook his head, and leaned over, to kiss his forehead. "I do. I do, yes. But I have a duty to uphold. I swore an oath."

"Even though the ones you swore it to are gone?"

"Then it becomes especially important," Tetsurou said. "Because no one else is alive to uphold it, save myself."

Kenma nodded slowly. Tetsurou cupped a hand to his mouth and called out to Lev. It was time to move on.

Soon, the heat brought with it the rains. Many times a day, sometimes from sunup to sundown, the skies would darken and open up, unleashing torrents of water down upon the land below. Some days, when the lightning flashed and thunder rumbled and the rain poured down in sheets, it was best to just give up their day's trek, stay inside and play games if their current lodgings had any spare sets to use, flat wood pieces clacking on the board.

Kenma, Tetsurou soon learned, was a master of these games of strategy, moving pawns and rooks about as though he himself were the general. Their games lasted for hours, silent contentment between the two of them, though interrupted often by Lev's questions and chattering input.

Then there were long nights spent after Lev had been tucked in bed in his own room that Tetsurou and Kenma spent just laying, listening to the rain on the roof. And there were others when the temperature and humidity in their room matched the weather outside; hot, wet nights, skin sweat-damp, to be licked clean in long, slow stripes.

"You're always so warm now," Tetsurou said one evening, as he ran his palm over Kenma's bare back and shoulders. Though Kenma still had no heartbeat to speak of, it was true.

"Am I?" Kenma asked.

"When I first met you, you were much colder…" Tetsurou considered. "In several ways."

Kenma laughed softly. "So you're saying I've warmed up to you?"

Tetsurou grinned at him. "Yes. I think that's exactly what I'm saying."

"Well, consider yourself fortunate, general," the god replied, stretching lazily in Tetsurou's arms.

"Am I one of the few mortals ever to gain your infinite favor?" Tetsurou asked.

"It's not infinite," Kenma said immediately, making Tetsurou laugh. "And you are the only mortal, thus far."

Tetsurou's laughter faded quickly. "I… I'm what?"

Kenma repositioned himself, curling up against Tetsurou and nosing against his side. "I don't normally like being around humans, for very long. I've never had the chance to feel warm like this." When Tetsurou didn't respond, Kenma looked up at him curiously. "Kuroo?"

Tetsurou closed his mouth and looked away, aware that his eyes had been wide as saucers for a moment. "N-nothing," he said, stammering like a schoolboy.

Try as he might, he could not grasp the truth of this—that an immortal creature like Kenma had never, not once, allowed someone to get this close to him.

So he said, "If it makes you feel any better, I don't think anyone else has ever made me feel this warm, either."

"I wasn't trying to make either of us feel better," Kenma said, "I was just stating a fact."

Tetsurou put a hand over his eyes. "That, briefly, was almost a _moment_ we shared, Kenma. It could have been one, but then…"

"No one else?" Kenma asked suddenly.

Tetsurou looked back at him. "What?"

"No one else has ever made you feel like this, either?" Kenma pressed.

Tetsurou turned onto his side and pulled the small god closer to him, so he could look right into Kenma's insistent eyes. "No one else."

Kenma blinked at him, and then poked his face up into Tetsurou's space, the tip of his nose brushing Tetsurou's. "Good," he said, the word rolling off his tongue low and pleased, and Tetsurou shivered. Kenma's lips quirked, and he trailed his fingers up and down Tetsurou's spine, up and down, over and over, until Tetsurou closed his eyes, whispering his name. "You're trembling," Kenma murmured. "Maybe I need to help warm you further?"

"That would be appreciated," Tetsurou sighed as Kenma slid one slender leg between his own, arms wrapping around his neck to kiss him deeply.

Despite the heat outside, he would never say no to feeling just a little more.

*

Some days, the rains fell beneath sunny skies, and the temperature remained the same, hot, even as the rain washed away the grime and sweat that covered all the people on the ground below. The dirt roads turned to mud, with deep murky puddles for either avoiding, or jumping in feet first. Kenma did the first, and Lev always the second, and Tetsurou never quite knew which option he himself would take until they happened upon the next one.

These days were some of the best they'd shared along the journey yet. Often, Tetsurou would turn to see Kenma watching them splash along the road, umbrella shielding him from the downpour (he was the only one of them who tended to remain dry), a small smile on his face. Shortly thereafter followed much giggling and pointing on Lev's part, as Tetsurou swept a protesting Kenma up in his arms to kiss him long in the pouring rain.

But the rains did not come without their own dangers.

"We're nearly to the next town," Tetsurou told Kenma. They had stopped by a river to fill the water canteens and take a quick break from walking in the heat. "Should be able to reach before evening without a problem. We can stay there for a few days, get our supplies in order. Then we'll take the road over the mountains."

Beyond the mountains lay the emperor's castle, and Lev's remaining family. They were getting close.

"We'll need to get him out of the water, first," Kenma said wryly, nodding his head in Lev's direction.

Lev had left his outer clothes on the bank next to them in order to go swimming. The normally shallow river was the perfect depth for diving, and his loud exclamations of excitement had become background noise. But then, there came another sound.

It was a low, low rumble, one Tetsurou felt within the ground more than heard, a deep trembling in the distance. At the same time, the raucous chirping of birds erupted from the trees as they took flight, almost as if sensing…

Next to him, Kenma stood, slowly. "Did you hear—"

"Yes," Tetsurou said. "I don't—"

Then he heard the third sound. The bubbling, roaring rush of water.

He snapped his eyes to the river. "Lev!"

But the boy had been diving for the past half an hour, and he was doing so now—he was completely submerged, Tetsurou couldn't see him, and Lev could not hear him.

The water level of the river was already rising rapidly, the current beginning to move faster and swirl unpredictably. Tetsurou shrugged out of his clothes, preparing to jump in but Kenma grabbed him around the arm.

"Kenma—!"

"No!" Kenma shouted, just as the flood crashed around the bend.

The onslaught of water, a frothing, unceasing wave, rushed with a startling speed, overflowing the banks almost instantly. The crest of the wave swept past them in seconds, and Tetsurou turned his terrified gaze out to the river, but could see nothing, no sign of the child—

A scream sounded from downstream, and they both snapped their attention toward it.

"LEV!" Tetsurou shouted, seeing the boy trying desperately to keep his head afloat as he was swept along with the current—a moment more and he would drown. Tetsurou wasn't even sure he himself would be able to survive in the tumultuous water, but he had to try—

And then a streak of red was tearing through his line of sight, and he realized with a shock it was Kenma, not a second before the small god dove into the river, red robe and all. For a moment, Tetsurou was seized with a doubling panic, first for Lev, then for Kenma, when he realized… Kenma didn't need to breathe.

He raced along the bank, eyes tracking the scarlet form moving through the water—Lev had flung his small hand up, reaching for Kenma, but the next second he slipped below the surface. Kenma went under after him and Tetsurou was left standing on the bank, eyes searching, heart lodged in his throat.

 _Not Lev,_ he thought, sick with horror. _Not him, too._

He waited, and waited, for what seemed like an endless stretch of time—the current was strong, the riverbed was rocky, Lev was small, too small, how could he have let this happen—

A bright spot of color broke the surface of the water, near the bank on Tetsurou's side, and he rushed to the water's edge, frantic. Kenma, hair come loose and swirling around him in dramatic black flurries, clothes drenched, had Lev clasped tightly to him with one arm as he fought the current with the other. Tetsurou reached out to help him.

"Stay—stay back!" Kenma shouted as he neared. "It's too strong, even for you—"

He dragged himself from the water, which seemed to be trying to suck him back under, like a living, grasping force. Ignoring his warnings, Tetsurou helped him as best he could, pulling Lev from him so Kenma could scale the riverbank with both hands. He seemed fine, but the boy…

Lev's eyes were closed, and he didn't move as Tetsurou laid him in the grass.

"He's not breathing," Tetsurou mumbled, numb. "He's not—"

Kenma pushed him aside, laying his ear against the boy's chest, eyes closed.

"Kenma, is his heart—"

**"Quiet."**

Tetsurou's words whispered away, like they had been snatched on the wind. Kenma's voice resonated in his head, and deeper, in his heart, like he'd never heard it before. Even if Tetsurou had known what to say, he could not have spoken. He stared at the god, who seemed as still as a stone statue, where he lay listening to Lev's heart. Then Kenma opened his eyes.

They were deep, dark pools of black, luminous, like ink in an inkstone, gleaming under moonlight.

He sat up, pressing his hands to Lev's face gently.

 **"Lev,"** he breathed, and though his voice was a whisper, it echoed. **"It isn't time."**

Tetsurou clenched his hands into fists as he watched the two of them—both deathly still.

Then Kenma bowed his head, bent forward until his forehead was touching Lev's.

 **"This is** **_not_ ** **your end."**

Lev suddenly heaved, body shuddering as he gasped, stomach contracting—he rolled onto his side, choking and coughing, and vomited up the river water he had swallowed.

Kenma blinked, and his eyes were yellow once again when they opened.

"Kenma?" Lev asked, voice wavering, before he flung his arms around the god's neck and hugged him tightly, bawling.

Kenma tucked the child against him, cheek resting against Lev's hair. "I better not have to do that ever again," he said, sounding absolutely relieved. His voice had returned to its normal tone.

"Kenma…" Tetsurou murmured, but Kenma shook his head.

"Later," he said. "Will you carry him? We should get to town as soon as possible. He needs to rest properly."

Tetsurou nodded. They helped Lev back into his dry clothes, and with the child settled against his back, they continued on their way.

But Lev soon fell into a deep and exhausted sleep, and Kenma spoke, then.

"I can't do that for everything," he said.

Tetsurou nodded. "No, I didn't think you could."

"I can't prolong a natural life. Or intervene for those who must go," the god clarified. "But… he's here through no fault of his own. A freak accident like that… it wasn't fair."

"Life often isn't," Tetsurou said, despite how grateful he was. He knew of many children who had suffered terrible fates without ever deserving it. He couldn't imagine Kenma trying to bear the weight of those deaths on his conscience.

"I know it isn't," Kenma said. "But he's lucky. He has me."

Tetsurou could feel Lev's breathing against his back, chest rising and falling. The soft whistle of his sleep breaths. He smiled.

"He certainly does have that."

*

"The road is closed?"

They had arrived in town after nightfall. It had taken them longer than planned but they had moved slower than usual, due to Lev's still weak condition, and the extra weight on Tetsurou's back. After finding a place to stay and making sure Lev was comfortably asleep for the night, they had walked to a small noodle stand near the inn. It was there that they overheard the unpleasant news.

"Just this morning," one of the old diners said. He was grizzled and brown with a broad, flat nose, a farming type, clearly having spent many long days under the sun. "Flood caved the whole mountainside in, thanks to the rains."

Tetsurou and Kenma exchanged a glance. That was the rumble they'd heard, then, before the river had overflowed.

"Going to have to spend the rest of the summer digging that out," the old man mused. "Fields are flooded, too…"

"What do we do?" Kenma asked Tetsurou.

Tetsurou stared into his bowl of hot soup, thinking. There were other, longer ways they could take instead. But the collapse of the mountainside was a difficult thing to contend with, would delay travel to and from the town for weeks, if not months, until they cleared it out. And the people there already had enough on their hands thanks to the rice fields flooding.

"We can stay here," Tetsurou told him. "Help clear out the road—I do have some experience in excavation, as it is…" There were always times, in war, when a more direct route was preferable.

He realized the old man was staring at him.

"Who are you, anyhow?" the man asked, and Tetsurou shrugged, lifting the bowl back up in front of his face.

"I'm nobody, sir," he said, shoveling noodles into his mouth.

"Well, that's not a surprise," the man said, with a snort, "since _nobody_ usually wants to help people like us."

Even Kenma couldn't help laughing at that.

The old man's name was Nekomata, and there was a familiar cunning in his eyes that Tetsurou knew well to respect and appreciate. So he told the man his plans, and Nekomata listened carefully, a spark of excitement flashing across his face.

In the morning, Tetsurou went out with the other farmers to survey the damages.

"Whew," he whistled, when finally he was standing at the foot of the ruined mountainside, looking up. "You were serious, gramps."

The side of the mountain through which the pass was carved had caved in completely. The mud and rocks blocked the path—even a few tall trees had shaken loose in the mudslide, finding their way in to add to the mess. It looked, from the outset, like an impossible task to clear. But clear it they must.

The townspeople were unhappy, Tetsurou could see. But more than that they were worried. He read despondency on some of their faces, doubt—how could they clear the path with the meager tools they had, before the cold weather began to set in and snow and frost made the landmass near immovable?

But Tetsurou had worked under harsher conditions than this, and with less workers and equipment.

"I, ah…" he said, stepping forward, clearing his throat. Somehow, it was more intimidating, addressing this group of grizzled, unimpressed field workers, than it ever had been standing in front of a fully armed battalion. "I might have some ideas for what to try, if you'd be willing to hear me out."

"Who's he?" he heard someone ask, but before he could answer, a thorny voice replied,

"He's nobody!" Nekomata smiled his cunning smile back at the rest of them, standing by Tetsurou's side. "And he's with me." He had said he had some influence in the town, and Tetsurou could see that this was true.

"Yasufumi," one of the women said, "we don't even know him…"

"Don't need to know him to see he's smart," Nekomata said, thumping the back of his broad hand into Tetsurou's stomach. Tetsurou smiled around a wince. "Tell them your plan."

"Alright," Tetsurou said. "I've had to deal with moving heavy loads without much manpower before…"

*

The rains grew less, but the days grew hotter, marked by long hours of sunshine as the cicadas sang on.

Tetsurou found himself out in the fields every day by the time the sun was in the sky, working alongside the rest of the able-bodied men and women of the town to excavate the mountain pass. He had devised a system of carts drawn by pulleys, rolled on logs that could easily be moved from under the back of the cart to the front as they hauled away dirt and rocks.

He, Lev, and Kenma had been put up in a small home near the rice fields, where they could watch the sun rise over the water in the mornings. This was where Kenma spent most of his time, a book in hand and pot of tea at his side. Lev soon made friends with the other children in town, and spent most of the days rambling about the countryside with all of them, fighting imaginary battles that they never lost, where everyone emerged victorious and unscathed.

The same could not always be said for Tetsurou, who sometimes found himself waging war with his lovely mountain of dirt, and occasionally losing. He returned home one evening in the still fading sunset, streaked with mud and dripping sweat and very glad to be done for the day.

"What happened to you?"

Tetsurou turned to find Kenma lounging by the open door on his side, lazily fanning himself with a paper fan. The evenings were still hot, and often the air was too still to provide the comfort of a breeze.

"It's a long story," Tetsurou said.

Kenma leaned his head back to look at him. "Is it?"

The general sighed. "I tripped."

Kenma covered his mouth with the fan.

"Okay, well what have you done today?" Tetsurou asked. "Lie there reading _The Tale of—"_

"Yes," Kenma said. "And I haven't tripped once."

Tetsurou chuckled. "Where's Lev?"

"One of the girls came by," Kenma said, with a yawn. "So he could be anywhere, by now."

Tetsurou paused, at this. "Oh…? Anywhere, you say."

Kenma barely had time to lay the paper fan aside before Tetsurou pulled him inside away from the open sliding doors, where they wouldn't be so easily seen. Grinning, laughter quiet, he pinned Kenma down against the straw mat floor, nuzzling aggressively into the boy's neck to try to get him to laugh along, a usually lost cause.

"You are covered in mud," Kenma groaned, but he didn't push Tetsurou away. And as the general's wandering hands found their way inside his clothes, brushing over his knees and up his thighs, he discovered Kenma was quite bare underneath them.

"Your actions belie your words," Tetsurou said, lowering his head to nip at the soft, naked skin high on Kenma's thigh.

"It is hard to ignore you," Kenma said, "when you insist upon dressing like _that."_

Tetsurou pulled back to look at him. "What's wrong with this?" he asked, mock affronted. He wore the same work clothes as the other townspeople, suitable for the sweltering heat—torso and arms bare, and legs as well, but for the cloth wrapped between his legs and over his hips both for protection and (very slight) modesty. Most of his backside was on display.

But that was what the people wore for practicality and to stay cool in the hot months, and no one batted an eye. Kenma, however, had been relegated to only being able to look at Tetsurou out of the corners of his eyes whenever he had it on. Tetsurou insisted it was because Kenma enjoyed it, and it seemed the truth was finally out.

"It leaves nothing to the imagination," Kenma told him.

"Well, neither are you, currently," Tetsurou countered, fingers pressing into his bare skin.

"Out of necessity, Kuroo," Kenma said. "Like I said, it's very distracting watching you walk up the road in that… and there's no telling when Lev will be back, so I wanted to make sure I was ready."

Tetsurou's eyes widened as he understood. Though it was wonderful to have a small place of their own to stay in, it was just that—quite small. And the times Tetsurou was home while Lev was not were occasionally scarce.

"If we're quick," Kenma murmured, eyes lidded, "you can have me. Right… now."

Tetsurou sat up, and then, before the god could say another word, lifted him up into his arms. Kenma wrapped his legs around Tetsurou's waist, hands eagerly pushing into his hair for purchase as Tetsurou kissed him roughly, bracing his back against the wall of the house to help keep them upright.

"Then by all means, let's not delay," Tetsurou said, voice a near growl as he trailed his lips over Kenma's jaw and neck. He dragged down his work clothes, feeling himself already grown hard, but when he slid a hand over Kenma's thighs, between the soft curves of his flesh, Kenma made a soft dismissive noise.

"I told you," he breathed, "I'm ready for you."

Tetsurou felt this himself, how slick and open the god was under his fingers, and he groaned. Kenma's head fell lightly back against the wall as Tetsurou spread his cheeks apart slowly with both hands to grind his cock between them.

"You're delaying," the god said, fingers tightening in his hair.

"My mistake," Tetsurou panted, "I just—you—" He couldn't stop thinking about it, get the image out of his mind, of Kenma preparing himself to take him.

"I was still doing it while you were walking up the road," Kenma murmured, and Tetsurou's breath left him in a rush. He pressed his face into Kenma's neck and whined, rutting against him like a dog in heat—like the hot, unending heat of that summer. "I was watching you, Tetsurou, watching and wishing it was you in me, instead, and I am _through_ with waiting for it— _ahh—"_

He broke off as Tetsurou pushed the head of his cock against his entrance, sliding against it before pressing inside, still slower than Kenma would have liked judging by the way he rocked his hips down, trying to be filled faster.

"Easy, easy—" Tetsurou said, "I won't last long—" It had been a bit too long since the last time, too long since he'd felt Kenma tight around him, and he could feel the sharp spike of heat in his gut.

"I'm not asking you to last, general," Kenma said, voice dangerously low. "I am telling you to make me come."

Tetsurou blinked at him, wide-eyed. "I can do that."

He pulled out, still slow, but when he thrust back into the Kenma it was hard and fast, and more than a little rough. He felt the impact as Kenma's back hit the wall, and Kenma shuddered, fingers raking down through Tetsurou's hair, the back of his neck, to sink into the muscles of his shoulders, gripping tight.

The exhaustion seemed to fall away from him as he worked to please Kenma—his heartbeat slowed as it always did when they were together like this, and every sound that slipped from Kenma's lips gave him a new energy.

"More—" Kenma breathed, voice stuttering as Tetsurou pounded into him. He moaned softly, sliding a hand between his legs to stroke himself in time to the way Tetsurou rocked inside him, and the slow thud of Tetsurou's heart sounded louder than ever in his own ears. "I waited for you—Tetsu, _more—"_

It was the utterance of his name, the little endearment, that made Tetsurou groan. He braced his forearm on the wall, still supporting Kenma tightly with the other, and started to rock into him hard, thrusts speeding up, drawing Kenma's voice from him louder and higher, little gasps and whispers of Tetsurou's name.

Kenma had waited for him. All the small, stolen glances the past few days, the anticipation building, even while it had been slightly tortuous. But more than that, more importantly than that—he was the soul Kenma had been waiting for, for all the god's long-lived, lonely years. He knew Kenma meant this too, with his words.

Kenma's gentle hands found his face—fingertips always cool, they never quite warmed all the way. But his palms were warm on Tetsurou's cheeks as he pulled him closer to kiss him, and Tetsurou breathed a long sigh against his lips.

He pressed his hips up, slid deep inside of Kenma and rolled against him, and Kenma gasped. Teeth nipped Tetsurou's bottom lip.

"Right there, Tetsurou—" Kenma whispered. "Tetsu—"

He broke off as he shuddered, spilling over his own hand, going somehow impossibly even tighter around Tetsurou. His hips rolled, and Tetsurou dropped his forehead to Kenma's shoulder as it became too much for him to hold on.

Kenma slid his clean hand down over Tetsurou's chest, trailing his fingers over his sweat streaked body, through the muddy tracks he'd gained from the day's labor.

"Don't stop," he murmured, "keep going…"

Tetsurou brushed his lips against his neck as he rocked into him again, spurred on by the hand in his hair, the low voice in his ear. His movements had slowed, and when he finished, he could feel himself unraveling with Kenma all around him, as the god wrapped his arms around his neck and held him close.

He pulled out of Kenma and lowered them both carefully to the ground. For once, Kenma didn't seem immediately concerned with cleaning up. He brushed his thumb against more of the muddy marks on Tetsurou's chest and shoulders.

"What do you think about this place?" Kenma asked him.

Tetsurou considered. "I wish the walls were a little thicker…"

"Not the _house,_ Kuroo," Kenma said. "This town. These people. The work—all of it."

"Oh," Tetsurou said, surprised. He would have to think longer about that, to give a proper answer. But some things, he could say. "It's… different. I've always lived in places that were very much the opposite." Since he was a child, he had been in the midst of city life. He'd rarely spent as many days in the quiet as this, out in the country, in a town where all the faces he saw every day were familiar to him. They had all become very familiar. It was comforting.

Even though he made an effort, would have liked to have it be so, he would never know the faces of every single one of the men he had led into battle over the years. He would never be able to look out over a crowd of them, and tell at a glance who was still with him. Who he'd lost.

"Do you like it here?" Kenma asked him.

Tetsurou thought of the early mornings, sun glinting off the still water in the rice paddies, tall waving grass for the children to disappear into, bird calls in the trees climbing the mountainside. He thought of the hot days in mid-afternoon, the laughter and rough songs of the men and women who worked to clear the pass, sitting in the wagons and sharing a bottle of wine to make the labor easier, though it had long since stopped seeming too hard. He thought of the quiet evenings, Kenma reading by lamplight, one or two of the other village boys in the other room with Lev as they played some kind of game, voices louder than they needed to be, but not too loud Tetsurou couldn't drift off, head pillowed in Kenma's lap.

"I like it here," he said, softly. He would be sad to leave it.

But summer was coming to an end, and the pass would soon be clear.

"I do, too," Kenma said.

There was a loud slam, the paper doors at the front of the home being thrown open, and then Lev could be heard tumbling inside, yelling up a storm. Tetsurou frantically checked the state of his clothes, making sure he was covered, as Kenma laughed at him.

"Tetsu, Kenma!" Lev hollered. "Do you want to go to the noodle shop! I bet you're hungry!"

Kenma sat up, looking as composed as though he'd been reading his book all along. "Tetsurou needs to bathe," he said calmly, as Lev burst into the room.

"I am… not the only one," Tetsurou said, as he took in Lev's appearance. The boy was somehow splattered with more mud than the general himself was.

"I was the best mud monster out of all my friends!" Lev said enthusiastically.

"I have no trouble believing that whatsoever," Tetsurou said, nodding. Lev beamed. "Alright, Lev, tell you what—" He pounced, seizing the boy around the waist and standing, lifting him into the air upside down. "Maybe we all need to pay a visit to the baths, first—then the noodle shop."

"Yes!" Lev yelled, giggling as he dangled. "Kenma, are you coming?"

"Do I have a choice?" Kenma asked, nose buried in his book.

"No," Tetsurou and Lev both told him. The god's lips twitched.

The baths did a wonderful job of clearing Tetsurou's aches and pains away. The noodle shop was good for the hunger, after all the day's activity. Old man Nekomata was there, and much of the evening was spent regaling the rest of the shop (most of whom were also working on the pass, and had already witnessed the event) with the story of exactly how Tetsurou had managed to end up buried under a pile of dirt.

Those days of toil were coming to an end, but the stories would be remembered long, long after. So it always was, among people who had been thrown together by circumstance, to work side by side.

It had been a good summer.


	5. fall

**_fall_ **

 

 _leaves turn to orange_  
_red and brown, and then they fall_ _  
as year's end draws near_

 

The shifting colors of the leaves signalled the time for change.

The moon loomed lower in the sky, appearing earlier and larger than at any other time. At night it hung over the leaf-strewn path, that wound on and on, leading in directions before unseen, but necessary to reach the end.

Was it a change of pace, of scenery, of heart, that guided footsteps forward?

 

The heat finally relented. As the days started to shrink and the nights grew slowly longer, the sweltering afternoons cooled.

The mountainside was suddenly awash in color. The trees all turned gold and orange and deep red, the whole peak almost like a fiery blaze in the setting sun. And the road that led through the flames was finally clear.

"Are you sure you won't take more with you?"

Tetsurou held up his hands placatingly. "We _can't_ take more, Auntie, we won't be able to pull the cart…"

The time had come for their departure. While they had always known their stay in the village couldn't last, each long day that passed, marking the approaching end of summer, had seemed more precious than the last. But at last the path had been cleared, and with the road opened up before them once more, they needed to move on. Their journey was coming to its necessary close.

The villagers, on the other hand, were unaware of the nature of their travels. And so it was not without a small amount of reluctance that they saw Tetsurou, Kenma, and Lev off—practically the whole town gathered round, their parting gift a small wagon as laden down with supplies for the journey as could fit. Several of the children were in tears, and quite a few of the old workers that had at first so reluctantly joined Tetsurou's crew were doing a poor job of hiding their sadness.

"Lev, if you take those, you're going to be carrying them yourself," Tetsurou said, spying the boy eagerly accepting a large package of sweets from a doting elderly couple whose grandchildren he often played with. "I have enough to deal with and you know Kenma won't."

Kenma nodded his agreement sagely.

"I know, I know!" Lev said. He held the sweets closely to his chest. "I just want to bring as much with me as I can."

In the end, Tetsurou knew, the bundle would hardly weigh anything, even if it did have to be tossed into the cart eventually. He still made a show out of pondering it, before giving in. As Lev celebrated excitedly, Tetsurou winked at the gift-givers.

The last friend he said goodbye to was Nekomata himself. The old man was the only one who hadn't tried, in some way, to convince him to stay once Tetsurou had announced some weeks ago they would have to take their leave. His wrinkled face stayed content and smiling, as Tetsurou bowed to him, not quite sure how to express his gratitude. For, though he knew he had helped the village considerably, that was just his nature; and he'd needed to pass through. It had been Nekomata who made it not a duty, but a discovery for him—that Tetsurou didn't need a sword in his hand to lead.

"It meant a lot to each of us," Tetsurou told him. "Your hospitality." Hospitality wasn't the word for it, not truly. But Nekomata wasn't nearly as sentimental as he was, Tetsurou knew. To try and express it fully would just make the geezer laugh.

As it was, he waved Tetsurou off. "The pass is cleared," he said.

"We both got what we needed," Tetsurou agreed.

Nekomata cast him a long glance. "Did we, now? I wonder… What do you plan to do once you make it over the mountain?"

Tetsurou started, surprised at the question. Then he laughed. "Complete my duty, I hope," he said. "I have obligations, to them both." He inclined his head in the direction of Kenma and Lev, who were still saying their own goodbyes.

Nekomata smiled thinly. "Is it obligation, general? Or guilt?"

Tetsurou opened his mouth to respond, and froze. Like summer leaving the land, a chill ran down his spine.

He had never told the old man who he really was. No one in the village knew.

"How—when—"

"Oh, I knew you from the night you convinced me of your plan," Nekomata said. "Some of us were lucky enough to be under your father's command in the last war, you know. A few of us were even lucky enough to survive."

"Is that why you trusted me?" Tetsurou asked, stunned.

Nekomata threw back his head in laughter. "Don't be stupid, boy. If it had been a bad plan, I would have told you to leave the work to us."

Tetsurou smiled, the tension fading from his shoulders again. "You really know how to make a man feel smart."

"I'm certainly not trying to," Nekomata said. "In the end, you've got to make a decision yourself. But I know the look men get, when they want to give up." He squinted at Tetsurou out of one critical eye. "I don't see that look in you yet."

He patted Tetsurou on the shoulder. Tetsurou, even had he known how to respond, did not have time—for Lev was running up to say goodbye, and there was nothing, truly, to say. Only thoughts to mull over, that had kept him awake now for some days. To have another put voice to them only served to make them louder.

It took no small amount of exchanges; but finally, there were no more goodbyes to be said. Unlike the cherry blossoms that had fallen in spring, with their gentle reminder of new beginnings, the fall leaves and the bare branches they eventually left behind were a warning that it was nearly that time again—time for all things to fade and be silent, time for the shortening of days, time for the end.

Soon, their journey would reach its conclusion.

But for the time being, they had more walking to do—and so they set off once more, their backs toward the village—though Lev kept turning around every few feet to wave, until the steepness of the incline caused the road to block the town from view, save for the far off glimmering of water in the rice fields.

"Someday," Lev said, after a much longer silence than he usually managed to hold, "maybe, we can all visit them. They'd let us stay there again, I bet. Even if Tetsu isn't making himself all useful and stuff."

 _"Oy,_ " Tetsurou said, as Kenma hid his laughter with his sleeve. But instead of scolding, he smiled. "Why did you like it there so much, Lev?"

Lev shrugged. "Because… you both did, I guess. I've never seen you look like you wanted to stay in one place like that before."

Tetsurou hummed. "It would have been nice. But you've got somewhere to stay, you know? We have to get you home."

They walked along in silence a while more, until Lev mumbled, "It doesn't really feel that way."

Tetsurou had nothing much to say to that. Lev's family in the capital were distant relations, not the family he'd grown up with, it was true. But they were good people, and some family was better than none at all. Lev would realize it once he got to know them.

He sensed Kenma watching him, his yellow eyes surely unblinking. But Tetsurou did not look at him. Instead he watched the falling leaves, and hoped that soon his convictions would leave him comforted, rather than uncertain.

*

Of course the road, as always, was never an easy one to travel.

The pass through the mountain was the most direct route to the capital; but it would still take several weeks to reach the other side. Just under a year would have passed since Tetsurou and Lev set out from the ruined citadel. If all went to plan, they would beat the next snowfall.

And just as well; much like at the start of their journey, they were far removed from civilization within the mountains. There were no inns, human or spirit-owned, no welcoming noodle stands, not even any abandoned shacks to shelter in for the night. So they camped under the night sky, cooking over small fires that ensured Tetsurou and Lev stayed warm, until they burned down to embers. In the darkness, the stars overhead became visible.

"They all burn out, eventually," Kenma murmured one chilly evening.

They tended to give Lev the lion's share of the blankets, in order to make sure he was warm. Tetsurou, who was used to long stints in the cold, and Kenma, who never felt cold to begin with, shared each other's space, more so they could keep their voices low and still hear one another, without waking Lev.

"What does?" Tetsurou asked sleepily. Next to them, only the faintest red glowed from the ashes.

"Stars," Kenma said. "No matter how bright they are." The god was staring straight up. His expression was strange. Solemn, but not sad.

Tetsurou turned onto his side to look at him. "Is this an analogy?"

Kenma's resolute expression dissolved into exasperation. He turned to look at Tetsurou, who grinned lopsidedly.

"Yes, _Kuroo,_ " Kenma said. "And… no. I've seen the end of many stars. Someone has to collect them when they die."

"Is there no point, then?" Tetsurou asked. "In watching them? Wondering about them?"

"I didn't say that," Kenma said, and Tetsurou felt fingers threading through his own. "There was one… one I was ready to take. Only it wasn't his time, yet."

"Why not?"

Kenma actually smiled. "It turned out someone else loved him too much."

"That was enough to save him?" Tetsurou asked, surprised.

"For a time," Kenma said. "Maybe that's why they need to be loved so fiercely."

"The stars?"

Kenma's grip on his hand tightened. "All things that don't last."

Like the cherry blossoms in the spring. Once, Kenma hadn't been able to see past the futility of a short life. He'd thought himself the villain of its story. Now…

Kenma was warm under Tetsurou's fingers when he brushed the god's cheek, before taking his face in his hands to kiss him. If Kenma wanted to cherish the time they had left, Tetsurou certainly wouldn't be the one to deny him.

The rest of that night passed peacefully. But the same could not be said of the morning.

It was still early when Tetsurou opened his eyes. Over time, he'd grown used to being able to sleep without waking to take a watch. Kenma had no need for sleep, and had senses far more attuned than Tetsurou's own.

But something had caused him to wake. On the other side of the charred wood used for the fire, Lev still slept heavily, chest rising and falling, eyes closed. But Kenma was gone.

Tetsurou rose silently, peering through the trees. With the foliage scattered all over the ground instead of on the branches, it was easy to look through them a great distance; but as far as he could see, there was no sign of Kenma's red robe. That left one option—the path sloped upwards into a hill, and the only thing he could think was that Kenma had gone, for some reason, over it. So he followed, a hand on his sword, listening intently.

As he reached the top of the hill, however, something grabbed him from behind, jerking him back before he could see over the ridge. He grappled for his blade, but a hand pressed over his mouth and a voice whispered, "Quiet, Kuroo." It was Kenma.

Tetsurou nodded to show he understood, staying silent even after Kenma released him. The god inclined his head in the direction of the hill, and understanding he was meant to look, Tetsurou crouched, creeping up the incline until he could just look over it.

"No…" he murmured. "That's—"

"Enemy troops," Kenma murmured. Tetsurou looked at him in surprise. Yes, they were Tetsurou's enemy—but Kenma had no enemies. The god didn't seem to notice. "It's not just there. They don't know we're here, but they will soon. They're stationed to our left and right, moving into the territory."

"Which means our only options are back or through," Tetsurou summarized. Either option was terrible. Going back would only delay things further; worse, it would mean there would be no one else informed of the enemy's fortified position between the capital and the rice farming village at the foot of the mountains. Tetsurou didn't want to find out what would happen if the enemy soldiers found the village before anyone else was alerted.

But going through meant an almost impossible fight—and he couldn't risk it, not with Lev with them and Kenma unable to intervene.

In a moment of startling clarity, he realized there was one more path left open to him.

"Kenma," he said slowly, "you know, don't you? How to get to the capital, how to find Lev's family—"

"I can find anyone," Kenma said, as though this were obvious. "Why are you—"

"I trust you," Tetsurou said. "I wouldn't have trusted anyone else before, but you, I do."

"Kuroo?"

"I know you'll get Lev back to his family," Tetsurou told him, "even without me."

Understanding dawned in Kenma's eyes. "Tetsurou, wait!"

His shout trailed away on the chill morning air as Tetsurou rose out of hiding. The sudden movement, high on the hill, drew the attention of all the soldiers down below. But it was the glint of sunlight on steel, sharply blinding as he drew his blade, that marked him as a threat. Unfortunately for the soldiers, none of them knew how dangerous he was.

They would soon learn. The sun in the early morning blackened his silhouette, seared the eyes of the men below him as they looked up and beheld him, readying themselves to fight. Their bravado would be as useful as standing before an oncoming tsunami.

Tetsurou tore through them like a knife through dry paper. He recognized this ignorance, their willingness to throw themselves into death's arms. They were not one of the elite troops of the enemy, but a placeholder, an afterthought sent to scout the position while the main force was marshaling. They thought they attacked a man, when really they faced a monster. They rushed him with their swords raised, each intent upon being the one to finish him.

Blood spattered the ground, red as the leaves strewn over it, as Tetsurou met them with force. With every step he took further into the endless melee, he was faced with more men, more blades. They surrounded him, threatened to crush him, if he ever stopped moving. He had known even before the fight began, that no matter how much stronger he was, he could never overpower the whole. Even as he fought his way out, their weapons found places to strike where he could not defend himself, by chance more than skill, but he plunged on.

Briefly, Tetsurou spared a thought to the lives of these men, offered up a silent apology to their friends, their families, their loved ones. Yet he did not relent. He cut a path through the soldiers, the frantic battle calling more and more of them to his position, drawing all their attention and pulling them away from the spot where he'd left Lev and Kenma.

He, too, had lost his friends, had long ago buried his family. He had so few left for him to love.

But that, he realized, might no longer be the truth. He had his traveling companions, yes, and they were more important to him than anything else—maybe more than anyone ever had been.

Tetsurou's arms had started to shake—from the effort of fighting alone, the weight of so many lives. How many had he killed? It did not matter; it was war. For every life he took, another might be spared.

Nekomata's village might remain safe one more day, the old farmhands and their jokes at his expense, the children who'd welcomed Lev like they'd grown up with him, the quiet boy who'd leant Kenma so many books—all under his protection.

The glancing blows began to land on him more effectively as he finally began to succumb to the immense effort, and the building up of the wounds being inflicted upon him. Was it enough? Had he done enough?

He fought on for the men he'd lost, whose faces he remembered and names he'd forgotten, or the other way around; or sometimes just the vaguest memory of frightened eyes and pale faces, lips red with drying blood.

Tetsurou's chest burned with the cold air he filled it with on every harsh breath. The blood pumping through his veins from the exertion should have kept him warmed, but instead, his fingers felt chilled. And he sensed he was slowing down, like he moved through water instead of air.

He couldn't afford to slow down. He had failed before, let the master he served die. The same man whose son had stopped him, at just the right moment, from killing himself. What had he told the boy?

_It is important to face death with honor._

Even a monster could be destroyed if enough men were sent to slay it.

_When that inevitable time comes, you must meet its eyes._

The general let out a yell, a cry that spoke of battle and blood and sacrifice. It reverberated through the silent clearing, and even in his weakened state, he saw the ripple of fear it sent through the men encircling him. Momentarily, they drew back, afraid of him—and he lunged, striking out, intent upon their destruction.

It was the last reserve of strength he possessed. He stumbled to his knees. But instead of staring at the shadows of the swords raised against him, he lifted his head, so he would see death coming.

And so, when death did arrive, he saw everything.

A sudden shock ripped through the battlefield, like an earthquake that was not felt so much as _understood._ The ground did not shake; but inside Tetsurou was a deep tremor, like the vibrations caused by sword striking sword, only much, much more profound. The very breath was stolen from him, and all around him, men ceased to move, staggering as they froze in place.

In the wake of the shock, a great gust of wind followed, and then suddenly stilled. And there in front of Tetsurou, he stood.

Robes redder than blood and leaves. Blade sharper than mortal skill could forge. Hair an ink curtain, loose and cascading down his back.

 **"Leave him,"** Kenma said, and Tetsurou knew even without seeing them that his eyes must be pitch black. **"Or you will die."**

For a long moment, nobody moved, and Tetsurou thought their enemies might heed the warning. But they had not realized Tetsurou was a monster. And they didn't know yet they faced a death god set free. If Kenma was stepping in to protect him now, Tetsurou knew, his mind was made up. There was nothing that would stop him.

All his years of war and battle could not have prepared him for the swift brutality of the fight that followed. No—he couldn't call it a fight. It was a massacre.

Barely recovered from whatever presence Kenma had exerted over them on his arrival, the first wave of soldiers attacked. Kenma slashed his sword through the air, once—a long arc in front of him, sweeping out to his side.

The wind returned, but this time it was vicious. At least ten men at the front of the line were tossed clear off their feet, flung through the air, bodies impacting the trees of the forest all around them with such shocking impact Tetsurou knew without a doubt they would never rise again. The wind itself was so sharp that it lacerated, blood spraying the air as men screamed in pain and terror, cut down by an unseen and powerful force.

No matter which way they tried to approach, they couldn't reach him. One man, perhaps sensing a smaller victory, tried to attack Tetsurou again, while Kenma's back was to him. Before Tetsurou could even move to defend himself, Kenma had run him straight through, impaling him on his blade, before flinging him off.

"Kenma, stop!" Tetsurou said.

**"That's not in my nature."**

"You are more than what you think!" Tetsurou said. Every inch of him ached, but he struggled to stand. "You can't lie to me anymore!"

Kenma didn't react, didn't move a muscle. At first Tetsurou thought Kenma had chosen to ignore him. Then the god turned his black eyes upon him, and spoke.

**"Then why do you keep lying to yourself?"**

Tetsurou blinked, and they were no longer among the trees.

The bodies around them were gone. So was the thin morning sunlight, the leaves on the ground, the wind and the smell of blood. Somehow, they were now indoors, amidst ancient cypress wall paneling and dusky candle lighting. Shaky and disoriented, Tetsurou looked around himself, getting his bearings as he recognized the place.

It was the inn. The old bathhouse where he'd first met Kenma.

"Why… are we here?" Tetsurou asked him.

"Because there's something I need you to remember," Kenma said. His voice had returned to normal; his eyes were clear and gold again. He watched Tetsurou with an expression that was unreadable. "I brought Lev here first," he added.

Tetsurou nodded. He still had no doubts Kenma would have made sure Lev was safe. That wasn't what worried him.

"Why did you do that?" he asked. "You said it yourself, you can't intervene for someone whose time has reached its end. All those people, in exchange for me—"

"You _still,"_ Kenma said, "owe me a life. I couldn't let them take you yet."

"You would have had it!" Tetsurou said. "I couldn't have survived them all, I was just trying to draw their attention long enough to—"

"Your _life,_ Tetsurou!" Kenma shouted, and Tetsurou faltered. "Not your sacrifice. Not your memory! You _swore_ to me! And I am _alive_ to uphold it!"

"What are you—Kenma, are you saying—"

"I don't want to know you only after your death," Kenma said, and to Tetsurou's shock, his expression crumbled. "I want to… I _want_ to be there for the things in between." Tetsurou could do nothing but stand there, stunned, as the death god began to weep.

"But I promised you…"

"I still want you to give me your life, Tetsu," Kenma said, tears falling openly now, and Tetsurou felt his own eyes sting and water in response. "But I want to share it now. I want all of it. Even if it doesn't last."

Tetsurou reached out, and closed the distance between them, gathering Kenma to him. He thought he might finally be able to see. "But I—I failed."

"Tetsu." An admonishment.

Tetsurou's voice wavered embarrassingly on his next words. "Kenma, I don't deserve—"

"You can't save everyone," Kenma interrupted him. "No one can. And if you'd died, then you never would have saved _us._ Lev. And me."

Tetsurou couldn't, and didn't want to fight it, when Kenma reached up to hold his face. He kissed Tetsurou so softly, it was barely felt.

"How did I save you, Kenma?" Tetsurou murmured against his lips.

"I thought I was the worst thing that could ever happen to anyone," Kenma said, "but you know what I am—you know, and—"

"And I love you, still," Tetsurou told him, even though neither of them needed it said.

"Yes," Kenma said. "Despite everything."

"And you feel the same," Tetsurou added. "Despite everything." Despite his mortality.

Tetsurou had always tried to balance the weight of lives lost or taken to those he managed to save or spare. Losing all his men, and the master to whom he'd sworn allegiance had tipped those scales. But though he still knew it was irrational, and selfish, they were being tipped back. Because he had, now, two people he cared about more than anything else in the world. And they were there for him; in their own ways, because of him.

Overwhelmed, he kissed Kenma as fiercely as he was able, and his heart hammered in his chest—and then he realized. It wasn't just the beating of his own heart he was feeling.

"Kenma," he said hoarsely, "your… your heart. It's—"

Kenma's hand flew up to press against his chest. A gasp stuttered from him, disbelieving—but almost painful in its hopefulness. "It's… it's _pounding._ " He looked up at Tetsurou, stunned. "How…"

"It makes sense," Tetsurou said, beaming as he tucked a long strand of hair behind Kenma's ear. And it did—ever since he'd met Kenma, since the first time they'd touched; the way Kenma's skin had started to warm. "In some ways, you must be a god of life as well, right? It just took us both some time to understand things."

"Is this how it feels for you?" Kenma asked him.

"When I'm with you?" Tetsurou kissed his forehead, then his lips once more, long and lingering. "Always."

When he drew back again, they were no longer at the inn. But the mountain, too, was gone. No, not gone, Tetsurou realized—but far in the distance. They were on the outskirts of the capital.

"How did we get—" Tetsurou began to ask, but then something small hit him hard at waist-level, and the next thing he knew Lev was there, bawling incomprehensibly as he hugged Tetsurou hard around the middle.

"I told Kenma that I was going to help you fight," Lev sobbed, "and he put me back at the _inn,_ and I thought I'd never see you again—"

Kenma raised his eyebrows at Tetsurou as if to say, _See?_ "I was trying to tell you my plan _before_ you went running off like a possessed man."

"Ah…" Tetsurou said, shamefaced.

Their work was nowhere near done—there was an army marshaling in the mountains, a city to warn, and a family he still had to inform of the incident that had taken place a year prior. But for now…

"Lev, do you recognize this place?" Tetsurou asked.

Lev looked down at his feet. "Yes…" he said. "But this means you're both going to say goodbye, doesn't it?"

Tetsurou put a hand on his head, ruffling his hair. "No, actually." When Lev blinked up at him, surprised, he said, "I don't think we're going to be saying goodbye for quite some time."

Lev's eyes went wide, nearly sparkling with the force of his glee. He leapt into the air with a whoop. "What are we waiting for then? Let's go, we've been traveling for ages, already!"

As he tore off down the path in the direction of the town in the distance, Tetsurou stroked his chin.

"You know, we _have_ been traveling for ages," he said. "Could you have just brought us straight here this entire time?"

Kenma didn't quite meet his eyes. "It might have been possible…"

"Haah?" Tetsurou squawked. "Then why'd we walk all this way?!"

The god glanced at him, and then, clearly unable to help himself any longer, burst into laughter. The way it lit up his eyes, crinkled at the corners, made Tetsurou glad—just to be there, to have decided for himself that his was a life still worth living.

"I guess I always was curious," Kenma admitted. "About where the long road would take us."

And Tetsurou, who wouldn't have given up a single step they'd taken together, laughed.

 

**_winter_ **

 

 _land hushed by white snow_  
_two hearts beating together_ _  
a new beginning_

 

So the snow fell once more.

The drums still beat, keeping rhythm, playing on as the fires burned low.

It was this sound, always beating, that carried them forward, until there came a good time to rest.

 

The moon hung high overhead, stark white, nearly as pale as the snow underfoot. It made the ground gleam in the light of its reflection, luminescent blue.

The stark, black shadows of bamboo shoots stood out even more against the snow. The bamboo forest of the Haiba estate in the capital was one of its many wonders. Always quiet and peaceful, it was a popular spot for meditation, or even the occasional subtle courting.

And sometimes, for a moonlit duel.

Tetsurou stared down the length of his blade, listening with all his senses. Every rustle of the wind, every swaying shadow, every hair that lifted on the back of his neck. He knew when the attack came, he would have no time to think—he could only react.

He felt it then, more the sense of an approaching presence than anything else, and he turned, bringing his sword up just in time to fend off the attack. The sound of metal on metal rang out through the forest.

"Ha!" Tetsurou breathed, grinning in triumph. The yellow eyes staring into his own, that black cat's glare, held a glint of annoyance. Which meant… "Thought you had me that time, did you?"

Kenma glared at him, unimpressed. "If I wanted to have you, I would—" He stopped, expression souring.

Tetsurou's smiled widened. "You would have? Kenma, you know you can have me any ti—hey, _hey!"_ His sly comments took on a note of terror as he barely managed to parry Kenma's next attack. "That was almost my nose."

"You don't really need that."

Having met Kenma was nice for a lot of reasons, Tetsurou had to admit; but their dueling sessions were certainly a standout, even if it typically took hours of hinting, needling, and occasionally pleading to get Kenma to agree to one. After Tetsurou had returned to the capital, he had been able to get word out about the forces marshaling in the mountains at the border. The shock of his reappearance after having been presumed dead for a year was enough to marshal a military force immediately, to tackle the remainder of the troops Kenma hadn't already wiped out. There was no telling when the next battle would be; the war wasn't won. But for now, they had some peace.

This didn't mean Tetsurou would let himself get out of shape, however. And Kenma was an excellent sparring partner.

"Alright, Kenma, let's see what you can throw at me," Tetsurou said, centering his sword in front of his body. "Don't go easy on me—"

Barely had the words left his mouth than the red-cloaked figure before him moved in a blur, so fast his eyes couldn't track it. Then his sword was met by a force so great it flew out of his hands before he could hope to recover. In the next second, he was down on his back in the snow, Kenma's sword tip at his throat.

"I went easy on you," the god said bluntly.

Tetsurou winced. "No one else has to know that."

Before he could work out how to stand in a somewhat dignified manner, Kenma let his sword fall to the ground and then joined him there, laying on top of him limply, head tucked under Tetsurou's chin.

"Are we done now?" Kenma asked him. "I want to go inside. It's cold."

Tetsurou wrapped his arms around him, rubbing his back, even though he knew he was being manipulated. "You don't get cold."

"No," Kenma said, "but that doesn't change the fact that it is. Which means it's a perfect time for hot tea, and reading my book, and—"

"Tetsu! Kenma! Are you still out here?"

The voice drifted to them from the estate—Lev had come to find them. He had adapted well to life in the city with his remaining family. But what helped most of all, perhaps, was that there was plenty of room for Tetsurou and Kenma to live at the estate for the time being. They even had their own room. And in the summer, they planned to visit the village over the mountain once again. But for now, they sheltered from the snow.

"We're coming in now!" Tetsurou called back. "Get back inside, Lev, you're going to freeze!"

"Okay!" Lev called back. "I made you tea!"

"I love it when he's good for something," Kenma said, which of course, was fully a lie. He loved Lev regardless, Tetsurou knew, even if he refused to admit it.

"We'll be right there," Tetsurou said, nudging Kenma in the ribs. Kenma grunted, and did not move. He now seemed much more intent on curling up against Tetsurou sleepily, right there in the snow. "I actually _am_ cold, Kenma."

"Serves you right."

"What was the last thing you were going to say?" Tetsurou asked.

"When?"

"Just now. Tea, book, and…"

Kenma's eyes drifted away suspiciously. "It's a good season, isn't it? For trying to keep each other warm."

Tetsurou let out a bark of laughter as he realized what Kenma was proposing. Now he was the one who moved too fast for Kenma to react—or rather, Kenma hadn't wanted to pull away, as Tetsurou pressed his fingers against his chin to tilt his head up.

"There's no season that isn't good for it," he said, leaning in slowly, anticipating the sweet smoky taste of the god looking up at him.

Kenma's eyes widened, and he put his hand to his chest. "Fast…" he murmured, just before Tetsurou kissed him, slow and so heated he could forget they were still lying in the snow.

It was another nice thing about knowing Kenma. He was still so unused to his heartbeat that he always reacted to it—which meant Tetsurou could always tell which of his romantic overtures were proving most effective.

But of course, he thought, as Kenma's thin, strong fingers came up reflexively to hold his face, then slide into his hair—the nicest thing was knowing that the heart Tetsurou could feel thudding against his own belonged to him, and no other. And his own matched it.

The rhythm was a steady reminder that the both of them were alive, and ready; for wherever the road lead next.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wait, I know its been a long road  
> Prodigals don't always come home  
> But I'll be alright  
> Wait, I'm between shadows and sunlight  
> But your love gets me through dark nights  
> [And I'll be alright](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jHq8e_D_euc&index=1&list=PL8RWissld6x_X4ssqVZtiBmH5f86YdDAO)
> 
> \--
> 
> Thank you RC for beta-ing these last chapters -- and everyone else, thank YOU so, so much for reading, especially to all the people who waited on the conclusion of the story <3 (and especially especially Ellie)! 
> 
> [[@esselley](http://esselley.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr, [@Esselle_hq](https://twitter.com/Esselle_hq) on Twitter]

**Author's Note:**

> More standalone stories for this theme:  
> [This Place in the Sky](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5933400) \- an AsaNoya story.  
> [Somewhere to Belong](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6373717/chapters/14599135) \- a KageHina story.


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